Prisoners of Fate
by Ranger Hitomi
Summary: Fantasy AU. When the Barians invade their kingdom, Lord Astral and his closest friends set out to stop their conquest of the continent; a young lord in another kingdom gives up everything to save his little brother; and a Barian Emperor and his faithful general play a risky game of politics with their lives and the future of their homeland at stake. (Sharkbait, Vkai, Mizadoru)
1. The Brink of Death

**Chapter 1: The Brink of Death**

The glistening white marble halls of the Astral Palace ran crimson with blood.

The sound of sprinting footsteps echoed through the quiet upper halls that contrasted with the devastation below, usually full of serving boys and girls, soldiers, and palace officials, but now empty save for one man.

His slightly heeled black boots clicked loudly with each step he took, his red-lined black cloak billowing behind him. He held a slender silver trident in his gauntleted hand, and the dim candlelight reflected off the still-wet blood that coated it.

He skidded to a halt in front of the library, the large cherry doors inlaid with emeralds, and pounded on it. A firm voice called out for the visitor to announce his name.

"Captain-Commander Ryoga Kamishiro. Hurry, there's little time."

The door opened slowly, despite the captain's haste, and he found himself with a sword point in his face when the door was cracked open.

"Yuma, put that away," the captain snapped, shoving his way into the room and slamming the door behind him. He stopped in front of a figure sitting morosely at a table near the ornate stained glass window, and knelt, resting the bloodstained trident on the gleaming floor. "Lord Astral-"

The figure at the table motioned with a frail hand for the captain to get to his feet. Everything about him was pale - from his white-blond hair to his colorless skin covered in shimmering, pale blue robes hanging loosely from his slender body. Triangular emerald green tattoos highlighted his sharp cheekbones and pale blue gems adorned his ears and the narrow headband hanging over his forehead. He fixed Captain Kamishiro with two different colored eyes - one a pale grey, the other a bright gold that contrasted jarringly with the rest of him and matched the triangular key hanging from his neck. He nodded at the captain's neck. "You're hurt."

His voice was calm, sad. The captain raised a hand to his neck and it came away bloody. He had been only vaguely aware of it. "I'm fine, but the castle is under heavy attack. There isn't much more we can do to hold them off-"

"Are they using the Baria Crystal?" the other man interrupted. Where Captain Kamishiro wore dark clothing and armor, Yuma wore the opposite - a white jumpsuit with red armor and boots. To the captain's annoyance, the younger man clutched his sword still despite his order to put it away.

"Not the crystal itself," Astral murmured before the captain could respond. "Weapons... they're using weapons made from the crystal, though. I can sense them; weaker than the crystal but still powerful enough to neutralize much of our astral power."

"Lord Astral," Captain Kamishiro began again, becoming increasingly irritated with the flippancy the two were treating the situation. "You must leave the palace. They're here for you and if they get you, we won't be able to stop them."

Astral's pale eyebrows lifted. "You think I will abandon my kingdom to these marauders and murderers?"

"No," the captain said after a moment's hesitation. "I order you to."

There was a stunned silence as Yuma's sword loosened in his hand and Astral watched the captain intently.

"You are _ordering_ the prince of the Astral Kingdom to step aside for the Barians?" His voice sounded a combination of incredulity and annoyance. "You have a great deal of authority but even you can't tell me how to rule my kingdom."

The captain looked up at him, then climbed slowly to his feet. "I don't have time to argue with you. The Barians are slaughtering everyone downstairs, they are going to break through our defenses and if we don't get you out of here through one of the secret passages out of the palace, more than your kingdom will fall."

"Ryoga-" the other man began.

"Lieutenant Tsukumo, I am your commander and you will refer to me as such," he said sharply, without looking at the younger man. "You are also the prince's personal bodyguard, yes?"

"I- Of course."

"So you have to do everything I say to keep him alive."

"I suppose." Yuma saw right away where this was headed.

"If I told you to knock the prince unconscious and carry him away from his palace to a safe place where we can plan an attack on the Barian kingdom, you are obligated to follow suit, yes?"

"Wait a minute," Astral interrupted. "You propose to flee from those who would kill my subjects and threaten to overthrow my kingdom after physically attacking your prince? What you say sounds like cowardice and borderline treachery, Ryoga. I thought the last of the Dragoons would uphold the clan's creed to never back down from those threatening the kingdom."

Ryoga's jaw clenched but he remained silent. He simply turned to Yuma, whose sword tip rested on the ground as he looked at Ryoga with a terrified expression.

"Yuma." His voice was softer. "There's no more time, and there's no chance of victory today."

Yuma's eyes darted between his prince and his commander. Mouthing words that may have been anything from a curse to a prayer, he sheathed his sword, darted to Astral, and grabbed him by the wrist.

"Yuma-" Astral's mismatched eyes widened in stunned disbelief.

"My lord, my greatest duty is to keep you safe." He yanked Astral roughly along as he followed Ryoga to the door. "Please forgive me."

The captain peered down the empty hallway. "Something's wrong," he muttered. "It's too quiet downstairs."

Yuma's heart pounded as he led Astral into the hall. He watched his commander gaze down the hallway for a moment before clearing his throat nervously. "Captain?"

Ryoga ripped his gaze from the end of the hallway that he had come from. "This way." He trotted in the opposite direction, his reluctant prince and Yuma close behind. They had nearly reached the end of the hall, where it split to the east and west wings in front of a large painting of a figure covered from head to toe in gleaming golden armor, when the thing Ryoga feared would happen did.

"Ah, Captain Kamishiro! There you are!"

He turned slowly. At the opposite end of the hall stood three masked and hooded figures, one tall and slender, the second short and stocky, and the third towering over them. They walked calmly down the hall.

"Or should I say Captain-Commander?" the slender figure said in amusement. "I hear the previous Captain-Commander died ignominiously, unable to defeat her foe."

Ryoga swore under his breath before turning to Yuma and Astral. He spoke rapidly in an undertone. "Yuma, draw your sword. Lead the prince to the southwestern tower and take the hidden passage to the basement dungeons. Follow the path."

"What are you-"

Ryoga gripped his trident and turned to face the three Barian warriors.

"No!"

"Yuma, that's an order!" he barked.

"By all means, Captain, let him stay," the slender figure said in amusement. "Two against three is much better odds than one to three, isn't it? Unless- oh!" He caught sight of Astral, half-hidden behind Yuma. "Yes, Lord Astral! What a wonderful surprise."

Ryoga ground his teeth. "You knew full well he was with me, Mizael."

"Can we cut the small talk?" the shorter of Mizael's companions cut in. "I'm itching to get my hands on more of the Astral Kingdom's power." He rubbed the brass knuckles inlaid with small, glowing red stones on his fist, anticipation shining in his eyes.

"Durbe told us to wait until Vector gets here, Alit," Mizael said impatiently.

"Oh, will it take four of you to get the prince?" Ryoga sneered. "Scared of him?"

"We've just slaughtered almost your entire guard downstairs, Captain," the third shot back. "We will take great pleasure in slaying the last son of the Dragoons and his protégé as well, before ripping the power from the prince you love so much." He nodded to something just over Ryoga's shoulder. "Your parents are dead, did your captain tell you that?"

Ryoga turned his head to where Yuma stood petrified, still clutching Astral's wrist. Astral teetered as though hit in the head with a blunt object as he absorbed this news.

"Dead…?" Astral whispered, eyes darting aimlessly around the hallway.

"I gave you an order!" he said furiously. "Why the hell are you still standing there?"

"I can't… leave you to die," Yuma said in an uncharacteristically small voice.

"How precious," Mizael said tonelessly as Alit and the larger Barian snickered.

"With the king and queen…" His voice quivered. The memory of the king dying in his arms as he made his captain swear to leave him and save his son clawed at his chest. "The prince is more important than a hundred of me." Ryoga's raised voice echoed through the quiet hall, cutting through the Barians' chuckles. "Go, NOW."

"No."

It wasn't Yuma this time, but Astral. His face was ashen and his body shook violently, but he pulled himself out of Yuma's grip and clenched his fists.

"Lord Astral-"

"No, I won't. If my parents are dead, I am now the king. I won't flee without a fight and I won't see any more of my people die for me." Astral lifted his glowing right hand and made a cutting motion before raising his hand above his head. Ryoga made a strangled noise of protest that went unnoticed by the prince. The Barians stood stock still, watching Astral warily. "My kingdom is in peril. Rid the threat with your power! Come forth, Aspiring Emperor Hope!"

A swirling black mass appeared in the air above the Barians, who took a few steps back as they watched the warrior in the golden armor descend from it, a ten foot tall mirror image of the one in the painting behind the prince who summoned him. He landed gracefully in front of Captain Kamishiro and unsheathed his massive sword.

"Hope will dispatch them," Astral said quietly. He slumped against Yuma, who caught him by the waist and held him up. "It always makes me tired," he added with a small smile at his concerned bodyguard.

Mizael, who had gazed at Hope with surprise, came to his senses first. His bow materialized out of thin air and he fired an arrow that streaked with red energy right at Astral. Weakened by the effort of summoning Hope and held still by Yuma, Astral couldn't react quick enough to dodge it, and it pierced his shoulder. The arrow shot a current of power through Astral, who shrieked in agony as the Baria crystal-infused arrow targeted his astral powers.

Captain Kamishiro dropped his trident as he cleared the short gap between him and his screaming prince. "Lord Astral-"

Astral clenched his teeth as he gripped the arrow. "Hope…"

With his summoner being drained of energy by the second, Hope slumped over, leaning on his sword.

"Nice shot, Mizael!" Alit said giddily, raising his fists. "Time to get rid of this monster." He lunged at Hope, who managed to deflect the blow with his sword. "Help me out, Gilag!"

The large Barian's hammer materialized in his hand as he too charged at the golden warrior. Behind Hope, Astral leaned against Yuma, who clutched his prince tightly around the waist as he held him up, eyes wide with fear with every shudder that indicated the Barian arrow was still doing its job. Ryoga put his hand over Astral's on the arrow, met his prince's eyes, and took a steadying breath. Gilag shouted angrily as Hope continued to deflect all three Barians' attempts to get to the three men behind him, despite his rapidly deteriorating stamina. "Hold him still, Yuma."

Yuma tightened his grip and squeezed his eyes shut against the scream that followed as the arrow tore from Astral's shoulder. Ryoga ripped off his cloak and wadded it to stem the tide of blood gushing from the wound. "Yuma, let go of his waist now. You need to carry him to the unused dungeons. Cell 3. Understand?" Yuma swallowed and nodded. He held out his arms as Ryoga lifted the nearly-unconscious Astral into them. Ryoga picked up Yuma's sword and wordlessly re-sheathed it in Yuma's belt.

"Go quick," he said quietly. "I'll catch up."

Yuma bit his lip. "Don't take too long," he said shakily, turning down the hallway. Mizael fired another arrow at them but Ryoga flicked his lance upward with his foot and knocked the arrow off-course. Mizael cursed and aimed one at Ryoga, who leapt easily out of the way.

A _tsk_ echoed down the hall. "I set you on a simple task to kill the Captain of the Astral Kingdom's Royal Guard and the prince's bodyguard and bring me the prince, and not only did you fail to accomplish any of these, but the latter two escaped."

The three Barians turned as a fourth masked figure strode stiffly toward them.

"Hello Vector," Alit said stiffly, clearly not happy about this reunion.

Vector shot him a withering glare and turned instead to Ryoga, standing close to the greatly weakened Hope. "Why are you so determined to fight when you're going to die either way, Ryoga Kamishiro?"

Ryoga lifted his trident in front of him. "I will never break an oath." In his peripheral, he saw a blurred figure hopping silently from curtain rod to curtain rod toward them. He felt simultaneously relieved and worried.

Vector laughed humorlessly. "An oath? To a prince who has little time left, judging by the state of his summon? The least you could have let us do was to rescue his powers before he died. All that untapped power, wasted. What a shame."

"Go to hell."

"And will you send me there?" Vector tilted his head, eyes glittering curiously. "The score is four to two – well, four to one and a half, I doubt Hope can last much longer-"

He cut off abruptly as he dodged a slender sword aimed at his throat, causing the unexpected attack to slash across his shoulder instead.

"How about four to two and a half?" rang out a woman's voice.

The attacker landed gracefully next to Vector and aimed another lightning-quick blow that Vector had to stumble backward to avoid. He clenched his good fist in front of him and shot a ball of energy at her, and she sliced through it neatly with her rapier.

"Impossible," Vector spat.

The woman held up the long, thin blade admiringly. "I took this from one of your dead. A Barian blade, is it? Such lovely balance." She brushed back her multi-hued blue hair and held the rapier in front of her. "Want to have another go?"

Vector's eyes narrowed. "The same arrogant face, the same self-important gait. You must be Rio Kamishiro."

"I must be," she said indifferently. "But just because I look like my brother doesn't mean I'm as useless as he is."

"So much talking!" Alit interrupted before Ryoga could give his sister anything more than a stony glare. "Why can't we just kill them and be rid of the Dragoons forever?"

"Agreed," Vector said. "I will oversee the cleaning up of the palace and lead the search for the prince in the eastern wing." He waved an arm and a dark portal appeared behind him. "I trust you three can actually accomplish your task this time?"

"Yes," Mizael said jerkily.

"Then I will see you shortly," Vector said, stepping back into the portal. As it dematerialized his body, his voice called out, "And remember that the price for failure will be steep."

Mizael glared at the spot where Vector had disappeared for a moment before lifting his bow. "No more talking, now."

He fired off an arrow at Rio, who twirled sideways to avoid it before jumping atop a table. Her light leather boots slid gracefully across it before she caught her left foot against the marble wall. Mizael fired again and she used the wall as a springboard and sailed through the air, rapier slicing at Mizael, who tried to let loose another arrow. She knocked the bow aside as her rapier left a light graze across Mizael's chest, and the arrow sailed harmlessly into a tapestry. Behind her, Alit charged, fists nimbly darting through the air as Rio barely managed to avoid the impact. Gilag charged at Hope, who was starting to deconstruct, with his hammer, but was caught behind the knees by Ryoga's trident, and he stumbled onto all fours as Ryoga raised his weapon.

"Gilag!"

Mizael fired at Ryoga but aimed too low in the chaos; the arrow sunk shallowly into Ryoga's thigh. Despite the arrow not penetrating too deeply, he felt a powerful shock in his lower body and let out a cry of pain.

"Ryoga!"

Rio's split-second distraction gave Alit an opening; he nailed her in her sword arm with his knuckled fist. She felt the sharp points pierce her shoulder, which cracked loudly as her rapier fell from her fingers, and screamed.

"Rio-" Ryoga's fingers laced around the arrow and without giving himself time to brace for it, ripped it out. Blood seeped from his wound and Gilag was regaining the use of his legs as he reached for his hammer but Ryoga was beyond feeling – his sister was now sliding down the wall, face ashen, gripping her bleeding shoulder, her weapon lying uselessly on the floor next to her as Mizael drew his bow back. "No, not Rio- _Rio_!"

Time seemed to stop as the slowly disappearing Hope lifted his sword and brought the hilt down with a resounding crash that shook the entire hall. All three Barians were knocked off balance but Ryoga managed to steady himself with his trident as he hobbled over to his sister slumped against the wall.

"Rio-"

Mizael recovered first. He lifted his bow once more, aiming intently at Ryoga, who, in his determination to ensure his sister's safety, did not notice.

"Ryoga," Rio whimpered as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

Hope lifted his sword once more and swung it with all his might at the Barians. This time, the force of the shockwave blew all three back into the wall at the far end of the hall, where they remained motionless. A portal much like the one Vector had used to disappear formed behind them, their bodies dismantling into bright, multicolored dots that the portal absorbed.

Ryoga glanced at the portal in surprise for a moment before looking over at Hope, who was disassembling into his own portal.

"Thank you," he said to the summon, who bowed his head as he disappeared. Ryoga bent down and gently touched the lightly bleeding holes in his sister's uncovered shoulder as she flinched.

"Broken," he muttered. His eyes swept over her tightly laced leather armor vest. "I've told you a hundred times that if you're going to wear any armor, make sure it covers your shoulders and make sure it isn't leather."

"Shut up," she said weakly.

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah…" She stumbled a little, but managed to remain upright when Ryoga pulled her good arm over his shoulders and gripped her by the waist. "You're bleeding," she said in surprise as her leg brushed his.

An intense throbbing coursed through his leg. It felt like the Barian power was travelling as an electric current through his veins. "It just grazed me. I'm fine."

"My rapier-"

Ryoga glanced at the Barian blade with disgust. "I'm sure we can find a different weapon for you to use."

"It's the best blade I've ever handled, Barian or not." Her pale, sweat-soaked face glared up at her brother with a strange mix of petulance and determination.

He sighed and flicked the rapier into his hand with his foot. It felt strange in his hand, uncomfortable. The pain in his leg intensified, and he bit back a groan. Like he had done with Yuma, he sheathed it for her before grabbing the trident propped against the wall. The moment the blade left his hand, the pain lessened slightly.

"Ryoga, the king and queen-"

"I know."

"What's going to happen to the kingdom?" she whispered.

"I don't know. We have to get to Lord Astral and Yuma quickly, before Vector comes back."

* * *

Astral wasn't a heavy man by any means. He was slender and unusually light for his height. But Yuma found as he hurried down the hidden path to the dungeons that Astral felt heavier and heavier with each step. Astral's breathing became more labored, though the bleeding had slowed, and his face shone with sweat.

Every few minutes, Yuma would whisper to his prince, who usually responded with a small noise or a flickering of the eyes. But as they reached the cell masking the underground exit, Astral made no motion that he had heard Yuma. His body slumped unmoving against Yuma's chest.

Fighting the panic welling inside of him, Yuma leaned his face close to Astral's. When he felt a warm breath brush his cheek, he relaxed slightly.

"Lord Astral?" he tried again.

It was a few seconds before Astral's mouth moved, though Yuma couldn't make out any of the words.

"What?"

"My hand… the wall…"

Yuma looked at the grimy stone wall, such a contrast to the gleaming marble of the rest of the palace. These dungeons hadn't been used in three generations and it was unlikely the Barians would even know they existed. "You want me to touch your hand to the wall?"

Astral's head inclined a fraction of an inch. With difficulty, Yuma positioned Astral in his arms so his hand brushed the slimy wall.

A blue light shined behind from an outline in the wall, and with a flash, a small entrance to a passageway appeared where the wall had been. Yuma understood; the door opened only for someone with Astral powers. But-

"How is Captain Kamishiro going to get in?"

"Dragoons have Astral powers," was the haggard reply.

Yuma stepped into the narrow passageway with a heavy heart, and the entrance sealed itself behind him, plunging them into darkness.

* * *

After nearly an hour of feeling his way down the pitch-black passageway, during which Astral slipped back into unconsciousness, Yuma finally bumped into a door. He groped for the doorknob and pushed it open.

He wasn't sure what he expected, but it wasn't this. It was a room about the size of the library with three beds evenly placed in the corner with small tables between them, a small fire grate, and several crates stacked against the wall. At the opposite side of the room was a padlocked door. Crisscrossing the ceiling were exposed pipes, some of which led out of the room, and several small vents. Dimly glowing blue bulbs hung suspended periodically along the wall, casting an eerie glow across the room, reminding Yuma forcibly of being underwater.

Yuma took Astral to one of the beds and placed him gently on it. He removed Captain Kamishiro's blood-soaked cloak from the wound on Astral's shoulder, which bled still, though not as much. Sitting on the table next to the bed was a small bottle and a stack of dusty cloths; this room had clearly been used as an improvised hospital in the past. He shook out a cloth, sneezing as a cloud of dust erupted from it, and opened the bottle. A foul-smelling odor emanated from it and Yuma winced. Hoping that the liquid was meant to be topically applied and not drunk, he dumped some of it on the cloth and dabbed with shaking hands at Astral's shoulder.

It immediately made an unpleasant sizzling sound and Astral let out a whimper. The blood bubbled and hardened, forming a scab over the wound that stifled the blood. With a breath of relief, Yuma shook out a second cloth and wrapped it tightly around Astral's shoulder. He suddenly realized how tired he was, and as he laid his head next to Astral's body, he fell into a troubled sleep, the question of what became of his commander burning in his heart.


	2. No Man's Land

**Chapter 2: No Man's Land**

Yuma woke slowly. He was vaguely aware of Astral's hand clasped around his wrist but more aware of the thudded footsteps headed toward them. He slid his hand free and had half-drawn his sword when the door crashed open and Ryoga Kamishiro stumbled in, supporting a smaller figure that Yuma recognized as Ryoga's twin sister.

"Help," Ryoga grunted before collapsing, his trident slipping from his hand and clanging on the stone floor.

Yuma closed the gap quickly and bent down next to his commander, turning him onto his back. His face was bloodless and clammy. "Rio, what hap-"

He stopped as Rio, unsupported, buckled next to her brother.

"Rio? Rio, Ryoga?" His eyes slid over Rio's disfigured shoulder and the dried blood covering four evenly-placed holes in it. Her ashen face was taut with agony.

"It's broken," Rio whimpered. When Yuma tried to help her up, she shook her head. "Ryoga first."

Yuma turned back to Ryoga. The blood on his commander's neck was still wet, but was no longer freely trickling. A wound much like Astral's on his thigh caught Yuma's attention next.

"It was Mizael," Rio said shakily. "Ryoga was about to finish off the big one – Gilag – and Mizael shot him with one of his arrows. The blood won't stop."

"I think there's something about Barian weapons that prevents natural healing," Yuma mused, wrapping one of Ryoga's arms around his shoulder and lifting him by the waist. His commander was much heavier than Astral, especially with all his armor; it took Yuma nearly three minutes to drag Ryoga's dead weight across the room to the bed next to Astral's and another two to situate him on the bed. Rio was next; though since she was conscious, it was much easier to guide her to the third bed.

"You're covered in blood," Rio said quietly as Yuma shook out another cloth.

Yuma glanced down at his white jumpsuit, now stained crimson with Astral and Ryoga's blood. The arm he had held Ryoga across the waist with caught him by surprise – it was covered in fresh blood. Yuma gently lifted Ryoga's tattered shirt and found a shallow gash across his stomach. With some trepidation, Yuma began removing pieces of Ryoga's armor until all that remained was the bloodstained undershirt. Yuma lifted it gingerly and splashed some of the ointment on the freely bleeding cut across his lower chest down across his abdomen. It bubbled and hissed before hardening the blood, leaving an angry red line in its wake. Yuma wrapped the cloth around Ryoga's body.

"He always complains that I don't wear armor properly, but he always leaves his torso exposed," Rio sighed. "He says it's hard to do an aerial attack when he's weighted down with armor, and that any idiot could protect his stomach."

Yuma smiled halfheartedly and glanced around for something to tie off the cloth.

"Here," Rio offered, pulling a small clip from her hair. "This should help hold it in place."

"Thank you." Yuma clipped the cloth in place and went to work on the leg injury, ripping the leather around it with difficulty. After tying another cloth into place on it, he gave his unconscious commander one last glance before turning to Rio.

"I don't… know what to do about a broken bone," he said miserably.

She tried to smile but it came out more of a grimace. "Just splint my arm. That should help."

He took the last cloth in the pile and folded it into an arm splint. Gently, he placed her arm in it before gently tying it off across her shoulder. She flinched violently through the process but when she finally settled back against the pillow, her face was less taut.

"What happened?" Yuma sat on the end of her bed.

"I was downstairs when… when the king was killed."

Yuma's throat tightened. "Who… who was it?"

"Vector," she said, brow furrowed. "There was so much noise, people screaming and bleeding and the Barians were just slaughtering everyone, even the serving maids. He plunged his hand into… into the king's chest. There was a blinding blue light and then…" She shook her head. "He collapsed. My brother went to him. The king whispered something and Ryoga kept shaking his head. Finally, Ryoga laid him down and called out an order before taking off up the stairs. Someone tried to stop him-" she placed her good hand on her neck "-but he… he's a good soldier. It didn't stop him, even though he let out a pretty horrible cry. So I followed. I lost my rapier somewhere in the thick of battle – someone knocked it out of my hand, I think – so I picked one up. By the time I got upstairs, I didn't see Ryoga anywhere but I did hear soft footsteps on the stairs, so I climbed up one of the tapestries and waited." She smiled grimly. "I hardly ever went to Dragoon training with Ryoga when we were kids, so I'm not as good at aerial attacks, but I thought I might be of some help as long as I kept quiet. Then you, the prince, and my brother came out of the library." She shifted on her pillow as she continued – how she arrived, how she and her brother quickly realized how outmatched they were, how Mizael shot her brother, how Alit shattered her shoulder, how Hope had saved them…

Yuma swallowed as he glanced over at Astral, whose breathing was beginning to normalize. After everything, Astral maintained enough control over his summon to save Ryoga and his sister…

"Where did he get his stomach injury?" Yuma asked quietly.

Rio grimaced. "We were almost to the tower when we were spotted by a stray band of Barians, four of them. They came at us, but I couldn't move my arm and it was hard to stand as it was; I was really dizzy. Ryoga took care of them well enough, but when one tried to stab me, Ryoga took it instead. Fortunately, it wasn't deep and he…" She smiled grimly. "He got him through the neck with his trident."

Yuma repressed a shiver.

"By then, we were worried that the others might notice their disappearance. Ryoga was in a lot of pain, a lot more than I thought he should be from a shallow cut, but he took me to the tower. We went down the hidden staircase and into the dungeon." She looked a little confused. "He touched a wall and there was a lot of blue light before it opened a hidden doorway. I thought he was going to collapse, but he kept going. For what felt like hours, he kept stumbling down the path, supporting me. I don't know how he did it."

A long silence followed Rio's story.

Yuma finally stood, his legs shaking. "I'm going to see if there's any food down here. When they wake up, they'll be hungry."

Rio watched as he walked over to the crates and began opening them. Cloaks, several changes of clothing, spare weapons, medicine… No food. He should have realized; this place seemed to have been abandoned for a few years, at least.

With a reluctant sigh, Yuma took a few bottles from the last crate and returned to Astral's bedside. He gently opened the prince's mouth poured a think purple potion down his throat. The prince choked some of the potion back up but Yuma held his jaw firmly shut until he saw the muscles in the prince's throat constrict.

"My lord?" Yuma offered hesitantly, letting go of his jaw.

The pale young man stirred before slowly opening his eyes. "Yuma…" His eyes darted around the dim room. "We made it…" He made to sit up but Yuma pressed him back firmly.

"You need to stay lying down," Yuma warned. "Mizael's weapon drained you."

Astral obediently leaned his head back down but glanced over to the beds next to his. "Captain? Lady Rio?"

"My lord," Rio said, inclining her head respectfully.

"They were injured fighting the Barians," Yuma explained as Astral's eyes lingered on Ryoga's stationary body. "The captain collapsed when he arrived here."

Astral's body tensed as he squeezed his eyes shut. "I failed, then. I failed to protect my kingdom." He shook his head. "Yuma, are my parents… really dead?"

"Yes."

Astral's mouth trembled. "No," he whispered as though saying it would make it untrue. "No."

"It's true."

Yuma turned his head. Ryoga's eyes were open now. His blue eyes were filled with pain as he looked at Astral. Whether it was physical or mental, Yuma couldn't tell. Probably both. It had to be an unimaginable feeling of agony for it to show on Ryoga's face.

"Your mother died first," Ryoga said quietly. "Mizael shot her through the heart. Your father was next; Vector stole his power, ripped his hand right through the king's chest. I held him as he died." He lifted a hand to his head. "I'll never forget their screams."

Astral jerked violently at these words and Yuma placed his hands on Astral's arms to hold him down. "Captain-" he began furiously, but Ryoga cut him off.

"He deserves to know how his parents died, Yuma."

"Yes, but you could have waited-"

"What good would that have done?" Ryoga demanded, wincing as he pulled himself to a sitting position. "He needs to know now so he can move on quickly."

"His parents are dead!" Yuma's voice was nearly a yell as he climbed to his feet. "How do you expect him to just 'move on' from that?"

Ryoga's eyes locked on Yuma's. "He isn't the only one who has lost people he loves to the Barians, Yuma."

Silence.

Finally, Yuma lowered himself onto Astral's bed. "I'm sorry."

Ryoga leaned his head against the headboard. "We all need rest. We should abandon this hideout soon, now that the Barians have control over the palace. It's only a matter of time before they find out where we went."

* * *

Yuma sat at the small table in the middle of the room, his sword propped up next to his chair. If the Barians did find them that night, his sword was of little use – Ryoga, Rio, and Astral were in no shape to fight anyone or even move, and though Yuma was a skilled swordsman, he was no match for four Barian warriors with all the powers of the Barian Empire at their disposal. He couldn't sleep. The events of the past twenty-four hours ran through his mind, from sitting down with Astral in the library to prepare for Yuma's promotion ceremony to Captain Kamishiro bursting into the room, warning them not to move until he returned…

He buried his head in his hands, stifling the tears that spilled from his eyes. He was so tired but his mind refused to let him rest.

A quiet scratching of wood against stone alerted him to a second presence at the table. Yuma rubbed at his eyes as he looked into his commander's face. His piercing blue eyes were rimmed in red but his face was impassive.

"You should be resting," Yuma said quietly.

"So should you."

Yuma stared at the table and shook his head. "I can't."

Ryoga folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. He looked strangely fragile without the armor covering his hands and shoulders. The fang that dangled from his neck glistened like glass as it caught the murky light. "I didn't get to thank you."

"Thank me for what?"

"Keeping the prince alive."

Yuma forced himself to meet Ryoga's eyes again. "You risked your life to protect him. To protect me. And I didn't do anything more than bring him here."

"Is that what's bothering you? Look at me." Ryoga dipped his head as Yuma tried to look away. Yuma reluctantly kept eye contact. "You're angry that you didn't get the chance to prove yourself in battle?"

"I'm angry that people died while I was cooped up in the library," Yuma said bitterly. "That you and Rio almost died to give us a chance to escape. That I alone out of everyone in the castle remained unhurt."

Ryoga settled back in his chair. "When Mizael shot me with that arrow," he said softly, "the pain was overwhelming. It hurt worse than this-" he gestured at the slowly healing wound on his neck "-and I thought I was going to die."

Yuma remained silent.

"It felt like my body was being ripped apart. For a second, I wanted it to end. To die and be done with it. I failed in my oath to protect the king and queen. All I had left was my oath to protect their son. Even that was hopeless, I thought. But then I heard my sister. I heard her scream. And I knew I had to live, to protect those I care about. So I fought it." His eyes darted to his hands clenched on the table. "And I will not default on my oath to the king. I will keep his son safe and I will see him retake the throne if it kills me." He hesitated. "Yuma, I've always admired your _never give up_ attitude, even if I found it annoying at first. It's what got me through today. Don't let yourself get sucked into feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing again. It's not a good place, and it doesn't suit you. You did a great thing by saving the prince. A very great thing."

Yuma swallowed and blinked back tears that threatened to escape his eyes. "Captain-"

Ryoga shook his head. "I'm not a captain anymore. There's no army left for me to lead."

"You're _my_ captain," Yuma said before he could stop himself.

Ryoga smiled, but it didn't reach his shadowed eyes. "No, I'm just Ryoga Kamishiro now." He sighed. "I'm sorry that your promotion ceremony turned into this. It should have been a proud day for you, being granted the honor of being Lord Astral's permanent bodyguard. Now you will always remember the day as the one where the Barians murdered your king and queen and all your friends."

"It doesn't matter anymore. I will fulfill my duty to him regardless. And I will fight the Barians, to my life if necessary."

Ryoga moved his hand as though contemplating reaching across the table to Yuma with it, but pulled back so quickly Yuma thought he might have imagined the motion. He scooted his chair back. "We should sleep. Good night, Yuma."

"Good night," Yuma murmured as he watched Ryoga walk with a rigid limp back to his bed.


	3. Signs of Change

Yuma woke, body stiff from laying his head on the table. His stomach rumbled. He hadn't eaten in what felt like a day. _It probably _has_ been a day_, he thought miserably as he stretched his arms and rubbed his neck. He was bone tired but had no way of telling what time it was.

As he looked across the hazily lit room, he saw the three bodies lying on the beds. Panic flared inside him. The Barian weapons, of course, rejected traditional healing methods-

Heart beating violently, he rushed to the beds and leaned down anxiously at his prince. His back was turned to the room but Yuma saw his shoulders moving and relaxed. He turned to his commander, whose face was ashen and his hands trembled, clenching and unclenching his blanket convulsively. Yuma watched him for a moment, wondering. What was he dreaming about? He resisted the urge to shake him awake and glanced at Rio. Her face was just as pallid as her brother's and shined with sweat. She had her injured arm pulled tightly against her body as she mumbled incoherently.

He pulled his eyes away and remembered the potion he had given Astral the night before. It had alleviated some of his pain, so perhaps-

The crate where he had found Astral's medicine was full of small purple bottles. Relieved, Yuma pulled out three more and returned to the beds. He hesitated before setting them on the side tables and scrawling a note before heading for the door opposite the entrance. They needed to eat. And Yuma was burning to know what became of his village.

* * *

The tunnel connecting the hidden cavern to the outside world took Yuma nearly forty minutes to traverse. It was a narrow, low tunnel that he had to nearly crawl to get through at many points, as well as inhabited by a wide variety of spiders. He tucked his arms close to him and the lantern he carried nearly touched his chest. He wasn't frightened of them, necessarily; he just had enough experience with them to know which were venomous, and many of these were. He couldn't afford to be incapacitated by them, not when he had to care for the Kamishiro twins and his prince.

He couldn't help but laugh humorlessly at that thought. There had been a ceremony prepared for his promotion to the coveted position of bodyguard for the crown prince. Perhaps it was for the best that the Barians chose early morning to attack. The shame of allowing Prince Astral to be so injured was great enough without his position being made official by the high priests.

When at last he saw a faint glimmer of light ahead of him, he breathed a sigh of relief and shoved his way carefully through a thick tangle of undergrowth. He hoisted himself out of the tunnel onto a hillside thick with vegetation, about an eighth of a mile from the well-worn forest path that he recognized immediately. It was the same path he had taken with his father many years ago when they went on their frequent hunting trips. He had never known there was a secret passage into the palace from here. His father probably had.

He slipped silently down the hill, pressing himself tightly against a large sycamore fifty yards out as a wagon rolled into view.

"…blame the boy," a tiny elderly woman in the front seat was saying loudly to the wagon driver. "It's a miracle he's alive anyhow. Shame he couldn't have got Vector before he vamoosed."

Yuma recognized her. She was his grandmother's best friend, a merchant from the village. If he wasn't mistaken, the man with her was her business partner, a cranky old man who often hit Yuma's wrists when he was younger with a broom handle when Yuma touched things inside the shop. But what were they talking about?

"I don't think you should be saying things like that so loudly," the man wheezed with an equally loud voice. "It's punishable by death to insult him now."

The woman harrumphed loudly as the wagon passed Yuma's tree. "If you ask me-"

"Which no one did-"

"-I'd rather be executed than have to put up with bowing and scraping to those devils." She adopted a mocking simper that faded as the wagon rattled on. "_Yes, Lord Vector. No, Lord Vector. 'Fraid I don't know much about the boy since he ran off to join the Guard, Lord Vector, but I hope he grew enough of a pair by now to come back and put a sword in your throat_." She laughed boisterously.

Her companion made a traumatized noise and glanced around quickly before responding with something Yuma couldn't hear. They rounded a bend in the road and their already fading voices vanished. He slumped against the tree, heart pounding. Had they been talking about him? And what was this about _Lord Vector_…?

He ducked out from behind the tree and took off at a quick trot toward the village.

* * *

The sight of the flags flying over Yuma's village made his stomach churn. It had been one night since his kingdom had been overtaken and already the Barians were flying their colors. He pulled his cloak tighter, positioning his sword closer to his body as several people passed him, eyes down. Several of them he recognized; the small handful that did make eye contact quickly looked away, as though pretending not to notice him. Maybe it had been a bad idea to enter the village after all. He walked slowly through the eerily quiet streets – full of people going about their daily lives as usual, but without a word to any of their neighbors. He passed a number of what looked like official notices posted to almost every shop, but he had one place he needed to go first.

He gently pushed open the unlocked door to his grandmother's house. With a quick glance behind him, he slipped through the door and bolted it behind him, wondering what he might find inside.

Nothing was out of place. The cushioned chairs in the living area were clean and in their proper places. The surfaces were dusted, the ashes from the fireplace had been emptied, and there were no dishes in the wash basket. It was like any other morning.

But his grandmother and sister weren't there.

He walked back to the fireplace and studied the small portraits on the mantel. The family painting he had sat through as a teenager was missing. He felt a sickening lurch in his stomach. Why was it gone?

A soft creak issued from a floorboard five feet away and his sword was halfway through a form before he glimpsed his would-be attacker and swung his sword up, missing her by inches. She, however, was not as quick in dropping her staff, which collided painfully with his upper arm.

"Ah-"

Yuma gritted his teeth as she gasped and dropped her staff with a loud _clunk _against the polished wooden floor before gripping his shoulder. "Kotori?"

Under the white cloak was a small woman, warm brown eyes gazing up at him with a terrified expression. "Lieutenant Tsukumo, I'm so sorry, but I thought you were a Barian with your hood up-"

He gently pulled her hand from his shoulder. "I'm fine. Physically, anyway."

"Let me Heal you."

"No, save your strength." Yuma's shoulder ached but it certainly wasn't the worst injury he had ever had. "Kotori, what's happened to this kingdom?"

Her eyes narrowed in confusion and she blinked contemplatively. "Yuma – Lieutenant – you shouldn't be here. Neither should I, because they'll know I know you if they see me, but I wanted to see what the Barians were up to and I climbed in the back window, but Lieutenant-"

"Kotori, calm down. I'm just Yuma."

She mouthed what looked like a dozen objections to his request before flailing her arms aimlessly. "Fine, Yuma, haven't you seen-?"

It was his turn to be confused. "Seen what?"

Kotori's eyes widened. "Yuma, you're a wanted fugitive." She reached into her cloak and pulled out a rolled piece of parchment. As he unrolled it, he recognized it as being the same notice posted all over town. Each word he read felt like a punch to the gut, and by the end, he felt a chill run through his body as though a bucket of ice water had been emptied over his head.

_By Order of the Seven Emperors of the Barian Empire_

_The Astral Kingdom has been assimilated this day into the great Barian Empire. All allegiances to the old regime of the Astral Kingdom are hereafter revoked. All persons conspiring against the Barian Empire, whether through open rebellion or refusal to swear to the Barian Empire shall be punished accordingly, with the ultimate punishment of death for serious offenders. The former royal family is dead and no heir to the throne has survived. Therefore, the throne will henceforth be assumed by Lord Vector._

_Further, all persons found in association with Ryoga Kamishiro, former captain-commander of the Astral Kingdom's Royal Guard and last son of the Holy Order of Dragoons, his twin sister Rio Kamishiro, last daughter of same Order, or Yuma Tsukumo, personal assistant to the late Prince Astral will be executed. The three are fugitives who fled the Astral Palace after attempting to murder the new emperor. All persons with information regarding these three highly dangerous individuals are required to report to the nearest town guard. Anyone found having withheld information will also be executed._

Three remarkably accurate sketches accompanied the order, and a sinister, pointed crest adorned the end of the paper.

Kotori gazed at him fearfully, biting her lip as she waited for his response. His mind formed several new questions though his old ones were unanswered. He could voice only one.

"Kotori, where are Gran and Akari?" As he looked up, she winced and licked her lips. She shook her head. "Answer me. Are they dead? Is my family dead?"

"No, they… they were taken."

"By?"

"Yuma-"

"Who took my sister and grandmother?" His voice was short, irritated.

"Lord Vector." Her voice was soft, frightened.

He swore under his breath and clenched the paper tightly as he turned back to the mantel. He ran his hand over his parents' wedding painting. He had already lost his parents to the Barians. He wouldn't lose his sister and grandmother too.

He turned away from the fireplace, brushing past Kotori as he entered the kitchen and rummaged in the cupboards. Kotori hesitated for a second before following him.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting food. I have three dying people with me and they haven't eaten in almost twenty-four hours."

Kotori gasped softly. "What? Who?"

Yuma straightened up, shoving a slightly crusty loaf of bread in a satchel. "Our prince and the Kamishiro twins."

She leaned against the wall, blinking rapidly as she registered this. "The prince is alive?"

"Barely. Every minute we spend here is a minute he might be slipping into death." Yuma paused in the doorway before returning to the living room and retrieving the scroll. "Come on." He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the door despite her weak protests. He shot her a silencing look that she heeded before he unlocked the door and peered into the street. He had been careless to come to his grandmother's house. They would surely be watching for him there.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a burly, olive-skinned man in a red silk shirt sauntering down the street toward the house. Before he could close the door discreetly, their eyes met. A quirky smile appeared on the man's handsome face as he sped up.

"Damn it." Yuma closed the door and bolted it shut again before sprinting across the room and down the hallway, dragging Kotori with him.

"Yuma, what-"

He pulled Kotori into his old bedroom, now being used for storage. He weaved his way through several boxes before shoving her in the corner. "Stay there. Don't move, don't make a sound." He made to leave, but she grabbed his hand.

"But what are you going to do?"

Yuma tugged himself free. "When I lead him away, go to the forest. About an eighth of a mile up the hill by the first bend, there's a small hole buried in the hillside. Wait two hours for me, and if I'm not back, follow the tunnel and help them. Don't let them die. Prince Astral is our only hope to save our kingdom now."

Kotori slumped back against the boxes as she listened to his footsteps pounding down the hall. She clenched her hands together and closed her eyes before beginning to pray.

* * *

Alit was unsurprised to find the heavy cedar door bolted shut when he reached the Tsukumo residence. He had thought this assignment to scour the village a waste of time, that the Tsukumo man wouldn't be stupid enough to come back, but this was quite a treat. It might even redeem his failure to kill the Kamishiro siblings.

It would be simple to just force the door down, but it seemed a shame to ruin such nice workmanship.

As he contemplated how he was going to get into the house, a barely perceptible _thud_ in the backyard made up his mind for him.

He moved lithely toward the low fence and hopped over it. He peered around the corner, expecting Tsukumo to assault him from the side. What he found was a little garden with small sprouts shooting up through the cool earth. He frowned for a moment before he caught a glimpse of a brown cloak darting across a neighboring roof before dropping to an adjoining street.

"What are you doing, Tsukumo?" Alit murmured before following suit.

* * *

Yuma hopped down from his neighbor's low roof into a deserted side street. Hoping he had bought Kotori enough time to escape unseen toward the Forest of Hope, he pressed himself into the shadows and waited for Alit, heart pumping adrenaline throughout his body. His sword was out of its sheath, held in Yuma's slightly shaking hand. All he could do was wait. Alit couldn't be too far behind him.

Sure enough, soft footsteps across wooden roof tiles alerted him to Alit's presence. Yuma felt the air ripple around him and jerked back just as Alit's Baria gem-encrusted brass knuckles connected with the wall, millimeters from Yuma's face. Yuma tried to maneuver his sword between himself and the Barian general, but Alit's movements were too quick, and all he could do was dodge until he backed into an abandoned fruit stand. He tumbled backward as Alit raised his fist-

_Crack._

Alit stumbled into the low fence, placing his hand to his head in surprise. He half-turned to see a green-haired woman in a red and white dress holding the staff that had connected with his head. He blinked stars out of his eyes and winced at the blood trickling from the wound that had opened up. Yuma recovered quickly, and put his sword at Alit's throat. The two locked eyes again and Alit smiled wryly.

"Go ahead, then. Anything you do to me can't be as bad as what Vector is going to do when he finds out about this."

Yuma frowned at Alit's tone. Was he disgusted by the Barian lord? Annoyed? Frightened? Whatever it was, it was clear Alit didn't have a good relationship with him. But he had more pressing issues to address.

"Where is my family?"

Alit shrugged weakly. "Do you think I know?"

"Vector has them. Where are they?"

"Probably Arclight. That's where Durbe is, anyway, and _Durbe's_ in charge of them, not Vector."

_Durbe…? _Yuma remembered hearing that name just the day before. _Durbe told us to wait until Vector gets here_. Was Durbe the lead Barian lord? What did he want with Yuma's grandmother and sister…? "Why?"

Alit let out a frustrated sigh. "All these questions. They're making my head hurt. Just kill me already and be done with it."

Yuma's hand tightened on the hilt as he pressed the sword deeper into Alit's neck. Alit winced as it drew blood and Yuma's face contorted into a grimace before he pulled his sword away again.

"There's been enough murder in my kingdom," Yuma breathed before sheathing his sword. He motioned for Kotori to follow him. She looked down at Alit, who wore a face of incredulity. Without another word, she cracked him once more on the side of the head and he fell forward, unconscious. Yuma raised an eyebrow as he set off quickly back to the forest.

"I told you to wait until I led him away."

She rolled her eyes. "You're welcome."

They hurried off, leaving the unconscious Barian general lying by a stand of citrus fruits.


	4. Separate Ways

**Chapter 4: Separate Ways**

Ryoga had no idea what time it was when he awoke with a shudder. For a panicked moment, he thought he might still be locked in his dreams; the warbled blue lights around the wall gave him the impression he was still underwater.

_Accept the cards Fate has dealt you._

He raised a hand to his head. It was the same dream he had dreamt for months, trapped underwater with a murky shadow that watched him, red eyes gleaming in the darkness.

Only this time, it had spoken to him.

_Accept me._

Shaking, he propped himself on his elbows and glanced between his sister and his prince. Rio sat up in her bed, staring blankly at the far wall, and Astral had his back to him as he slept. Yuma was nowhere in sight. As she realized her brother was awake, Rio answered his unspoken question, pointing to a note on the table between their beds. It was scrawled in nearly illegible writing that Ryoga recognized immediately as Yuma's:

_Gone out to see if I can find some food and if the Barians are close. Ditched the clothes, wearing a cloak over my face. Drink the potion, it might help with the pain. Be back soon. Yuma._

Ryoga crumpled the note in his fist. "Damn it, Yuma," he hissed. "Why did you go out on your own?"

"If you hadn't noticed, none of the rest of us is really in any shape to go anywhere," Rio said in a bored tone. She glanced at Astral. "Physically or emotionally." She jerked her head at the bedside table, where an empty bottle sat next to a full one. "You really should drink it. My shoulder hurts a lot less. Burns like hell on the way down though."

"I'm fine." He wasn't; his leg throbbed like the arrow was still wedged in it, the cut on his stomach seared, and he barely had the strength to sit up.

She shrugged her good shoulder. "All right, but don't complain when Yuma forces it down your throat anyway."

"I'd like to see him try."

Rio rolled her eyes but leaned back into the pillow, trying to get comfortable. Ryoga sat stonily, ignoring the throbbing in his thigh and the burning across his abdomen. He felt strange, naked, without his armor. His trident stood across the room, propped up by a crate. It seemed incredible that not forty-eight hours prior, he had been training his guards in hand-to-hand combat, a skill in which they were alarmingly deficient. He wondered if he had taught them how to fight one-on-one with knives and fists earlier, if they had had time to hone that skill, some of them would still be alive…

But he hadn't, and now every one of them was dead. Everyone but Yuma.

Why did Yuma always survive where everyone else fell?

Gods, his leg hurt.

He grabbed the potion from his bedside table and downed it in one. Rio was right. It did burn like hell on the way down. But it sent a pleasant cooling sensation through his wounds that took some of the edge off the pain.

The locked door on the opposite side of the room jiggled slightly as someone on the other side tinkered with the lock. Ryoga sprang to a full sitting position, body tense. His weapon was too far away even had he been in full strength, he was in an incredible amount of pain, and the only one who might have been able to put up a fight was gone-

Yuma pushed open the door, cloak hanging off his shoulders, carrying a satchel and rolled up paper, face pained. He had changed out of his coronation uniform into white pants and a red leather vest over a black undershirt. Ryoga relaxed for a split second before a second figure in a short red and white skirt, matching blouse tied at the chest with a red ribbon, and a fragile staff in her hand followed cautiously behind. The hood of her white cloak covered her face.

"Who is this?" Ryoga demanded, half rising from the bed.

She pulled her hood down to reveal dark green hair and brown eyes. "Captain," she murmured with a small curtsy.

Ryoga relaxed. "Kotori. I'm glad to see you survived the… the battle."

"The slaughter," she corrected stiffly, pulling the cloak off and tossing it on a nearby chair. "I ran away. It was too much for a simple Healer like me to witness."

"That makes two of us," Ryoga murmured.

"I found Kotori in the village," Yuma said from the table, opening the satchel and pulling two loaves of bread from it. "The Barians were searching for anyone known to be allies with-" he held up a long piece of parchment "-the enemies of the Barian Empire."

Astral sat up suddenly and finally turned to face the rest of his party. "Barian Empire?" he repeated.

Yuma crossed the room with a large chunk of bread and the paper. He handed them to Astral, who ignored the bread and stared with furiously glinting eyes as he read the paper. Words seemed to fail him as he looked up at Yuma, whose face remained hardened.

"This… isn't true. It's the Barians trying to lure us into a trap, surely-?"

Yuma shook his head. "From what I saw in town, this is entirely accurate."

Ryoga held out his hand and Yuma passed the paper to him. His hands shook so badly by the end of the order that he had to read the last two lines several times before the letters made sense to him.

"I don't believe this," he whispered as Yuma took it from him and handed it to Rio. "How do they think people will respond to an invading force that murdered its rulers and took over anarchically being their new rulers?"

"What better way to destroy morale than to have killed the entire royal family?" Yuma said rhetorically. "People are going about their daily lives but everyone looked too terrified to say anything."

"This picture makes you look very ladylike, Ryoga," Rio piped up as she reached the end of the proclamation.

"This is _not_ the time."

Astral slid back to his pillow and stared forlornly at the ceiling. "But surely… if I show myself, if they know I am alive… the people will fight?"

Rio gave a light chuckle as she rolled the paper up and tossed it onto the bedside table. "My lord, your people were slaughtered. Your _trained_ people, I might add. No, they won't fight, and they would probably turn you in or kill you to make their lives easier. The Dragoons fought the Barians and were driven to virtual extinction." She ignored her brother's wince. "Nobody will be able to fight the Barians once they have a stranglehold on enough kingdoms."

"What do you propose we do, Lady Rio?" Astral's voice was weak. "Let them take over?"

"Make sure they _don't_ get a hold of any more kingdoms," Yuma said, face set in determination.

Rio nodded faintly but Kotori, who had remained silent for the entire conversation, finally spoke up.

"Did you just suggest we – the five of us – singlehandedly prevent the Barians from expanding their conquest?"

Ryoga gazed across the room. "The Barians have control over three kingdoms," he mused. "The Barian, Arclight, and now Astral Kingdoms."

"There are only two kingdoms free from them at this time," Rio said. "Heartland and Tenjo. Both kingdoms have a strong alliance. If one falls…"

The unspoken sentence had more power than if she had finished it.

Ryoga tried and failed to climb out of bed. His leg pulsed with pain and he collapsed back onto the bed. He scowled and looked over at Kotori, who was now muttering a prayer under her breath, eyes closed.

"Kotori, Heal us," he said.

Her eyes snapped open. "Excuse me?" she said coolly.

"You're a Healer, and we're injured. Heal us."

She gave him a withering glare but walked over to Astral.

"My lord," she murmured, reaching her hands out and placing them on his shoulder. He nodded and closed his eyes. She murmured an almost songlike incantation, and her hands glowed with a blue light that was swallowed by the identical lights in the cavern. Astral's body tensed as she pulled her hands away, looking weary. She walked purposely around Ryoga's bed toward Rio, and whispered something only Rio could hear. Rio smiled reassuringly and nodded, and Kotori placed her hands on Rio's shoulders, repeating the process. Rio clenched Kotori's wrist and bit her lip as Kotori went through the ritual, but she relaxed when Kotori, looking close to exhaustion, pulled her hands away from Rio's restored shoulder. Kotori turned to Ryoga and grimaced.

"Lie down," she commanded wearily.

"Why-"

"If you don't lie back, I will not Heal you."

Ryoga slowly leaned back, settling on the sheets. She removed his blood-soaked bandages, placing one hand on his chest and grabbing his thigh with the other. His eyes widened in shock both at her forward touch and at the icy current that flowed inside him but he endured the process. By the time she finished, he felt strangely energized and neither his chest nor his leg pained him, though angry scars remained.

She shuddered and slumped against the bed. Yuma caught her by the shoulders and held her up as Ryoga climbed out of the bed. Together, they helped her lie down.

"Thank you," Ryoga whispered.

"Don't make it a habit," she replied weakly, but her eyes closed and she dozed off almost immediately.

Ryoga turned to Yuma. "Are there maps here?"

Yuma furrowed his brow, thinking. "Yes, I have a rough copy in my satchel."

"Perfect. I need it." He motioned to Rio and Astral, who both climbed from their beds and joined him at the table. Rio flexed her stiff arm and split a lump of cheese with Astral as Ryoga bent over the map Yuma drew from his bag.

_Incredible how solidified his sense of duty is_, she mused as he traced lines over the map and muttered to himself. _Even when there seems to be no way out, he keeps trying._

Every so often, he consulted with Yuma, who pointed at landmarks, shaking his head, or nodding vigorously in agreement with Ryoga's assessments. At one point, they had a furiously whispered argument that Rio caught only snippets of; something about _uneven numbers_ and _not by yourself_ issued from Yuma while her brother spouted the same _dereliction of duty_ and _there's not enough time_ diatribe that he always used. Still, she couldn't miss the way her brother's eyes softened as he listened to the younger man's counsel, or the way neither so much as flinched when they brushed their hands together as they traced their fingers over the map.

"What was the time you got back?" Ryoga finally sighed, leaning back in his chair as he rubbed his eyes.

"Around eleven. I think we've been at this for two hours, so it's probably around one or one-thirty."

"Five hours to sundown, then." He looked over at Astral, who was sifting through the crates, making a growing pile of usable supplies. "My lord, we want to explain our plan."

Astral nodded and set down a bottle he was examining, resuming his seat next to Rio. "Should we wake Lady Kotori?"

Ryoga glanced at her slumbering form. "No, she wore herself out. We can fill her in later. Now." He pointed at the map. "We're here, on the edge of the forest. The Barians have expanded into the Arclight and Astral Kingdoms to their west, but the Tenjo and Heartland Kingdoms to our south are still untouched."

Rio frowned. "The Tenjo and Heartland Kingdoms border Arclight with only the rivers blocking their paths. Why did the Barians cross the mountains though the forest to the north to invade our kingdom first? They could have captured the pass at the river here-" she pointed at the break in the mountain range at the intersection of the four kingdoms "-and pushed up into our kingdom after conquering Tenjo and Heartland."

Ryoga's finger landed on a familiar location to the north, on the border between Arclight and Astral. Rio let out a soft _ah_ as she realized what the Barians had planned. "They invaded the northern border of Arclight but crossed quickly into Astral to attack the Dragoon Village four years ago. Afterward, they went straight back to Baria with the satisfaction of having eliminated a potential future threat." He didn't bother masking the bitterness in his voice. Yuma gazed sadly at Ryoga, who looked suddenly exhausted. Rio didn't want to remember watching her entire race be wiped out, and she knew Ryoga wanted to remember it even less. She remembered it enough in her dreams. "With the Dragoons dead, they could plan their easy conquest of the Astral Kingdom from the safety of Baria without Arclight retaliating immediately for them moving militant forces into Arclight territory. With the Astral Kingdom under their control, Tenjo and Heartland are pinned in with nowhere to go."

"Where are the Barians going to attack next? Tenjo?" Astral suggested.

Yuma nodded and pointed at the cities lying on either side of the intersection between the Arclight and Tenjo Rivers. "These two cities are outside the natural boundary for Tenjo, but since Arclight and Tenjo have such a good relationship, King Byron allowed the expansion of the Tenjo boundary to include these two cities, which are Tenjo's most prosperous port cities, as long as Arclight gets a percent of the bounty. They do a lot of trading with Heartland and Astral there. Naturally, the Barians will take these cities first and push across the river into Tenjo. Heartland won't be able to stand up to the pressure on all sides and will fall."

"Our goal," Ryoga said grimly, "is to convince both the kings of Heartland and Tenjo to push an offensive against Arclight, to drive the Barians out."

"Lord Faker will never agree to an attack on the Arclight Kingdom," Astral said bluntly. "Not only were he and King Byron close friends, but I have heard that Lords Kaito Tenjo and Chris Arclight are very good friends as well. Lord Heartland is even more inflexible and won't listen to reason half the time."

"That's why you're going to be going to Heartland and talking with him," Ryoga said. "Lord to Lord."

There was a moment of silence.

"You're sending the crown prince of the Astral Kingdom on a diplomatic mission?" Rio raised an eyebrow. "Alone?"

"Of course not," Yuma said. He shot Ryoga a peculiarly discontented look that Ryoga pointedly ignored. "I will go with him."

Rio suddenly realized why the two had been arguing. "So Lord Astral and Yuma are going to the brink of enemy territory… by themselves?"

"Kotori is going with them," Ryoga said, mouth thinning. "You and I are going to Tenjo."

"Which is foolish, since you and Rio are both recovering from serious injuries and would be better off with a Healer," Yuma said tautly, not looking at him. "Especially since Tenjo is more likely to be crawling with Barians looking for us."

"Rio and I are Dragoons and are therefore physiologically capable of surviving greater assaults."

"Which will do you no good if you end up bleeding out from a late side effect of the attacks you sustain."

"We can't all go together, Yuma. We have too much ground to cover and not enough time."

"Boys," a bleary voice from across the room interrupted. "Can't the Healer decide for herself where she wants to go?"

They turned their heads. Kotori sat up in her bed, glaring at the group through heavy eyes. "I didn't ask to get mixed up in this in the first place-"

"It's too late to abandon your kingdom now," Ryoga said curtly.

"If you would let me finish, _Captain_, I was going to say that I suppose I have no choice but to fight back for my home. I will go with Lord Astral and Yuma. My concern is greatest regarding my prince's health."

Yuma scowled as Ryoga inclined his head toward her. "That's that, then. Rio and I will head southeast to Tenjo via the mountains, Wyvern Forest, and the Galaxy River; Yuma, Astral, and Kotori will cross the smaller foothills to the southwest toward Heartland."

Astral looked concerned. "It's wonderful that we're going to be doing something for our kingdom," he mused, "but as our groups consist of three wanted fugitives, a supposedly dead prince, and a conspirator, how exactly are we to get anywhere without being recognized? Or discovered by Barians? They're undoubtedly watching the mountains and the waterways for us. And, well…" He pointed at his face and half-smiled. "It's hard to cover up my eyes or the tattoos marking me one of the Astralite royal family members."

Yuma picked up a small beige bottle. "We're going to use this face paint and blend your skin tone to cover the tattoos. As for the rest of us, we'll wear plain cloaks and cover our faces whenever possible, and as long as you keep your eyes down, it should help keep attention from them. And we will not take boats downriver, so we'll avoid port patrols. Even when we get into Tenjo and Heartland, the Barians will probably have advance scouts watching the rivers."

Rio's other eyebrow shot up. "We're _walking_ the entire way? That's well over one hundred fifty miles either way. It'll take a few weeks at best."

Her brother scowled. "It's the long way, but it's safer than trying to disguise ourselves and getting found out." He pointed over at the piles Astral had made by the crates. "We're going to split supplies and head out at sundown. We'll try to do most of our travelling under cover of night and rest during the days." He rolled up the map and handed it to Yuma, who took it without looking at him. "Pack light."

* * *

The sky above the leafy treetops was a brilliant, multicolored pallet of purples, gold, and pinks as the small band stepped out of the well-concealed hillside in the Forest of Hope. Each party member had a small bag slung across their backs and a heavy brown or black cloak covering their faces. The lead figure motioned for the rest to follow as they made their way quietly to the edge of the woods. Towering over the small village a few miles away was the gleaming white marble palace cast in a brilliant mosaic of soft colors they had, until yesterday, called home. His family's crest, the symbol he wore tucked under his blue woolen shirt was missing from the banners. They had been replaced in the day by the ominous masklike crest of the Barian Kingdom.

Astral ran his fingers across a nearby tree trunk as he gazed forlornly at his birthright, stolen from him at his parents' premature deaths. A sudden spike of anger filled him; sitting on his father's throne was his father's murderer. Ruling over his kingdom with fear was a bandit. His hand clenched and a gentle hand rested on his shoulder. He looked down into a pair of violet-blue eyes.

"We'll get it back, my lord," Rio murmured, though she had her eyes narrowed at the flags rustling in the gentle breeze. It had to distress her and her brother to see the Barian crest flying in place of the crest they had dedicated their lives to, especially given their past with the Barians.

He nodded but the smile he tried to give her came off more as a pained grimace. They turned back to the other three. Kotori was checking the wound across Ryoga's torso, which seemed to have healed well enough, though a violent scar remained. She was chiding him to make sure he applied the ointment twice a day for the next week, and he grumbled accordingly, but he watched Yuma, who stood a short way off, arms clenched tightly across his chest. Yuma wore a thoroughly despondent expression as he stared unseeingly at the ground.

Rio shook her head. "Lady Kotori," she called, "could you come here and check on our shoulders? I want to make sure I'm prepared to journey without your Healing."

Kotori nodded and approached Rio and Astral, leaving Ryoga standing alone, still watching Yuma. As Kotori examined her shoulder, Rio watched her brother with narrowed eyes. When he looked at her, she jerked her head slightly toward Yuma and he gave a heavy sigh before closing the short gap between them.

"Your arm is healing remarkably well," Kotori mused, running a finger over the small scabs. "Better than Lord Astral's or your brother's. In fact, I think your wounds will go away soon, which is something I can't say I'm as sure about with your brother. Just watch out for possible infections. They can spread when bones are shattered."

"That's wonderful, and I will be cautious," Rio said graciously. She rested her hand on Kotori's. "I appreciate your help, Lady Kotori. We owe our lives to your skills."

Kotori's face tinged pink but she smiled. "I am glad _you_ appreciate me," she said warmly, "unlike your brother."

Rio chuckled as she looked at Yuma and Ryoga, who stood across from each other, looking everywhere but at the other. Yuma fiddled with the hilt of his sword while Ryoga stroked the handsomely crafted quartz-fortified lance he had substituted for his silver trident. "He means well. He just expresses himself poorly." She raised her voice. "We should get moving, Brother."

Ryoga gave her a stony glare before looking Yuma directly in the face. He muttered something and Yuma flinched as though slapped.

_He has no delicacy, my brother_, Rio thought. She clicked her tongue in annoyance. As she walked over to them, she heard Yuma's strained, quiet reply.

"You either, Ryoga."

_Neither, apparently, does Yuma._

Ryoga cleared his throat. "Well, let's go. The plan is to stay with our respective kingdoms whether we succeed or fail in our missions, so we… we likely won't see each other again."

Astral clasped his hand with both his frail ones. "Don't say that, Captain. I might believe that you intend to die." Ryoga inclined his head, looking troubled. Astral shook Rio's hand as she bowed to him.

Kotori grasped her skirt and curtsied, first to Rio and again, slightly less cordially, to Ryoga.

"Lady Rio, Captain."

Ryoga bowed, holding his lance aloft. "My lady." Rio, surprised, followed suit.

Yuma stood back. "Good-bye," he said quietly.

The last two children of the Dragoons watched as their three companions disappeared into the rapidly darkening night.


	5. Clash on the Revise Bridge

**Chapter 5: Clash on the Revise Bridge**

Emperor Vector tapped his fingers imperiously against the side of the Astral throne and shifted ever so slightly. The lush blue carpets that had filled the throne room hadn't suited him, and not just because they had large bloodstains all over them. Crimson was a nice color. A powerful color. His crimson carpets suited the marble floors much better; so had the heavy crimson and silver wall hangings he had replaced the blue silks with.

But he'd be damned if the key-shaped throne wasn't the most uncomfortable thing he'd ever sat in, even with cushions. It had to be the next thing to go.

The hulking figure kneeling on the floor in front of him at the foot of the dais fidgeted and fell silent, having finished a report he'd known Vector wouldn't like at all. He wasn't wrong.

"You mean to tell me," Vector said in a dangerously quiet voice, smoothing out a wrinkle on his purple skirt, "that you not only failed to kill the twins and the prince, but you have failed to find them anywhere in the palace?"

The man on the floor remained silent.

Vector sighed and stood, secretly relieved to not have to sit on the throne for a while more. "Stand, Gilag."

Gilag obeyed.

"You're in luck, Gilag," Vector said, examining his fingernails. He would need to have them filed; they were getting long again. "Alit reported that he spotted Yuma Tsukumo in the village."

"Do we have Tsukumo in custody?" Gilag asked cautiously.

"No." Vector gracefully descended the dais, purple mantel rustling behind him. He reached Gilag's shoulders in height, but the large man had never felt more dwarfed by Vector's presence. "He failed to capture Tsukumo, who was actually joined by a Healer we missed in our scourge of the palace staff. And then the Healer knocked him unconscious."

"Then why am I in luck?"

Vector touched Gilag's shoulder. Gilag screamed as Vector seared him with his magic.

"Because," Vector said conversationally as Gilag fell to the floor, "it means the twins, the prince, and Tsukumo are still in the area. They're probably going to cross the river into the mountains rather than risking the main waterways. Find them. And kill them this time. Oh." Vector looked down at the man crying silently on the floor. "Do me a favor and get Alit to move Tsukumo's grandmother and sister to Arclight. Kazuma Tsukumo knew about the Astral World, so perhaps his mother and daughter can assist us, with Durbe's help. And get that shoulder Healed," he added as an afterthought.

* * *

Night fell as Rio and Ryoga approached the Revise River, across which lay the mountain barrier between Astral and Arclight. Compared to the Galaxy and Arclight Rivers, it was rather small, only a few hundred yards across, but without a boat, it would be impossible to cross. There was a bridge, Rio reminded her brother, but it was very likely to be heavily guarded. They saw no alternative. They would be unable to find anyone willing to ferry them across the river under the combined threat of death at helping them and prospect of great monetary reward in turning them in. The bright moonlight cast a rippling glow across the seemingly placid river. It was unfortunate, Ryoga muttered, that they should be cursed with a nearly full moon and clear skies when what they had to do would be best served under cloak of cloud cover and no moon.

They counted no fewer than twenty armed guards, all bearing the crest of the Barians on their cloaks and all carrying a wide array of reddish weapons, from maces to longbows. Ryoga eyed the archers warily; he would have an easy time dispatching short-ranged weapons with his spear, but the archers could attack from up to a hundred yards with deadly accuracy. Fortunately, two of them were close by and the third patrolled the center of the bridge, so perhaps it would be easy to take care of them. He tightened the bag slung across his chest and shoved his wadded-up black cloak in it. Rio followed suit. Speed was of the essence. Cloaks would weigh them down. The bags would weigh them down too, but they needed the supplies inside. Their black armor would hide them a little better in the darkness, which would be of great help, being outnumbered one to ten, but it would have been so nice for a cloud to cover them…

"This is foolish," Rio complained, not for the first time, as she tightened the laces on her boots and adjusted the leather girdle hanging over her skirt. "We should have just stolen a ferry."

"Thieving is dishonest," her brother replied, idly twirling his lance. It wasn't as deadly as his trident, but it would have to do. He couldn't maintain a low profile carrying around his trademark silver weapon when everyone knew he had it. This conversation had been repeated three times since they had reached the bridge, with her brother arguing each time against stealing. Her brother's sense of honor was bizarre. She was certain his attitude had to do with the fact that his pride had been irreparably damaged during the nightmare at the palace and that he wanted to kill as many Barians as he could as repayment.

Rio snorted and pulled on her gauntlets. "And killing twenty guards is okay, is it?"

Ryoga tilted his head. "They killed our entire clan and invaded our kingdom."

She conceded that point to him and unsheathed her rapier. The weapon felt warm and familiar in her hand, though her brother's mouth tightened when he saw it. Despite her hatred of the Barians and everything they had ever created, she found this to be the most perfect blade she had ever held. It had protected her from Barian magic too, which was something no Astral or Dragoon weapon had ever done for her. The surprise in Vector's face when she had countered his attack filled her with grim satisfaction.

"One scratch of their weapons might kill us," she reminded him.

"Don't get scratched, then."

He was infuriating. "I suppose we should just get this over with before more of them show up."

"Go for the archers first," he said casually.

She rolled her eyes and took off at a trot. He followed.

Her rapier took an archer in the throat before he realized they were there. Ryoga dispatched another through the back. Before the pair even hit the ground, the twins had nearly reached the foot of the bridge and took three more through the vitals.

The rest of them noticed.

"Archers!" a masked man wielding a mace cried before Ryoga knocked his feet from under him with one end of the lance and pierced him through the stomach with the other.

"Left flank!" he called to Rio. She deftly parried an oncoming sword, slashed the owner across the throat, and leapt gracefully backward onto the bridge railing in one sweeping motion. Her current position would have allowed her to dart across the bridge if there hadn't been that pesky archer hovering in the middle of it. She narrowly dodged the arrow but overcorrected her balance and toppled over the railing.

"Rio!"

Ryoga's split-second distraction cost him; a Barian with a gleaming red knife closed the gap Ryoga had maintained with his ranged weapon and lunged at Ryoga's neck. The former captain's eyes widened momentarily in amazement.

"Fortune is on my side, it seems," he whispered, kicking the soldier back and thrusting the spear at an awkward angle into the man's chest. As the Barian fell, Ryoga pulled the fang necklace he had tucked under his shirt up to his eyes. Not a scratch.

Another Barian threw himself at Ryoga, but he was ready this time. He pulled his lance back and dropped to his knees. The Barian stumbled and Ryoga swept his feet from under him, toppling him over the railing into the raging, icy undercurrent masked by the serene surface of the river. Then he remembered something that momentarily petrified him.

_The archer._

_Rio._

A sword user came at him from the front. He raised his lance in preparation – he was most skilled against swordsmen – and felt a rippling of the air behind him. _I'm surprised it took you this long to think of double teaming me, _he had time to think, amused, before he thrust the butt of the lance upward behind him. He felt the weapon crush his assailant's windpipe. As that man crumpled to the ground, Ryoga swung his lance through the neck of the second and scanned the bridge frantically. It was littered with bodies, all with gaping holes and gashes through their vitals. The planks were slick with blood and entrails, and the stench of defecation and body fluid filled Ryoga's nose. Not a sound issued from any of the men lying on the bridge. Ryoga and his sister were very sure of that.

_Rio._

_There._

He hopped up on the railing and sprinted on the narrow beam. Wind whistled in his ears as he closed the distance – about seventy yards – in less than ten seconds, bypassing a handful of Barians that took swipes at him and missed by yards. As the surprised archer loosed another arrow, Ryoga was ready. He bent his knees and vaulted from the railing, pulling his lance back as the arrow missed widely. The archer barely had time to reload the longbow when Ryoga hurled the lance. It hit its mark straight through the archer's skull. Ryoga landed gracefully and yanked his weapon free, turning back to the bridge. Less than a dozen Barians remained, though none of them looked particularly thrilled about getting too close to the black-clad Dragoon, lance dripping in blood, so they stood uncertainly nearly twenty yards away with their swords clutched close.

"Rio!" he bellowed.

She hopped back up on the railing and neatly speared the nearest man in the spine. He dropped like a bag of grain. "Took you long enough."

"Where have you been?" he demanded.

"Holding on to the support beams. I wasn't getting back up here until that archer was gone," she said defensively. "Can you blame me?"

"Coward. I could have been killed."

She stuck her tongue out at him but sprinted across the railing to join her brother, taking one more across the neck for good measure. "Are we finishing them off? My arm's kind of tired."

Ryoga opened his mouth to reply but a slight rustle of the air behind him distracted him. He rolled out of the way as a heavy axe smashed the spot he had just occupied. A gaping hole appeared in the planks.

"Ryoga Kamishiro. Rio Kamishiro. The last two Dragoons in the world."

Ryoga paled. The massive figure of Gilag blocked their way in front, and half a dozen Barians stood a short way back, pinching the twins in the middle. Gilag's face was uncovered; Ryoga had never seen any of Vector's close lackeys in their human forms. Their true forms had always unnerved him, but now he wasn't sure he preferred Gilag's human one. He supposed he should have been grateful that Gilag was wearing little armor outside a steel plate covering his upper torso and a large metal belt buckle, but Gilag's exposed bulging muscles and enormous hammer were plenty terrifying on their own.

"Where is Astral?" Gilag demanded. Fury and hatred lined every inch of his face.

Rio shuffled behind Ryoga. "I'll take the ones behind us. You deal with him."

Her brother nodded as she darted off, rapier blurring through the air as she attacked, and shifted his feet. He held his lance across his body, tip down, in a formal stance. He hated the battle position – it was too defensive for his liking – but defense was the only way he was going to keep alive in this fight. He certainly wasn't going to be able to put his lance through Gilag's armored chest…

_Any idiot can protect his stomach_.

...but then again, perhaps he could aim a little lower.

"Lord Astral isn't here," Ryoga replied. Adrenaline coursed through his body. One small nick was all it would take Gilag to incapacitate him. One small nick without Healing would eventually kill him. "Just me."

"Well," Gilag snarled, lifting his hammer, "good thing I will be forgiven for letting the prince escape when I rid the world of you two abominable half-breeds."

Ryoga barely had time to puzzle out what he meant when the man lunged at him. His well-positioned feet danced back and Gilag stumbled forward. Ryoga thrust his lance up toward Gilag's exposed spine, but the large man spun surprisingly quickly and parried the blow with his hammer. The impact of the spear tip on the hammer reverberated through Ryoga's arm and he grimaced, almost dropping his weapon.

_Not good_.

Gilag swung his hammer upward. Ryoga skidded back just in time; the hammer barely missed grazing his chest, and he fell on his back. Ryoga let out a low hiss and swung his weapon into Gilag's torso, just below the armor. He found bone; he was just too far left and too high to hit Gilag's vitals, but the impact made Gilag grunt and stumble. A flash of blue, and Rio flew at Gilag's exposed back. Gilag let out a roar of frustration and vanished in his portal as Rio landed, just missing her target.

"Damn it," she muttered. "So _close_." She reached out a hand and helped Ryoga to his feet. He was embarrassed at how much his hand shook as she gripped him, her hand covered in slick blood. "Did he get you?"

Ryoga shook his head. "Almost." He glanced over her shoulder and saw the pile of red-stained bodies scattered all over the bridge. "Impressive."

"Thank you," she said dismissively, pulling her cloak out of her bag and throwing it over her shoulders.

As they finished crossing the bridge, Ryoga turned to his sister. "Something is bothering me."

"Something is _always_ bothering you," she said idly, leaning by the river to wash her hands and blade. Streams of crimson swirled into the water, quickly dispersing in the swift undercurrent.

He gave her a patronizing stare and joined her. "I'm serious. Gilag called us 'abominable half-breeds.' What do you think he meant?"

He thought he saw a dark look in Rio's eyes in the bright moonlight that passed quickly into a look of puzzlement. "I have no idea. He was just insulting us, and it's not like the Barians have any right calling _us_ abominable. Come on, we should go before more show up." She sprinted into the cover of the forest at the foot of the mountains.

He hesitated for a moment before following, leaving the bridge littered with Barian bodies.

* * *

Gilag collapsed in his quarters against his silk-covered bed. The lance had pierced his rib, and he was bleeding profusely.

Twice. He had failed to kill those unnatural creatures _twice_.

If this wound didn't kill him, Vector would.

"You know, most people sleep _in_ their beds," came a drawl from near the window behind him.

Gilag gritted his teeth. "This is partly your fault, you know."

He heard someone slide off the windowsill and the bed creak as they hopped on it. "I've been punished just the same as you. In fact, I was knocked unconscious by a woman. By a _Healer_. My sympathies are limited."

Gilag turned his head and scowled at the dark skinned young man lying on his bed, fiddling with the tassels on an intricately embroidered pillow. Many of the young women in Baria swooned as he walked down the halls or through the villages in his human form, with good reason. His human form was beautifully crafted, with thick, wavy black hair, dark eyes, and a well-toned, athletic body. Next to Alit, Gilag, with his human face made of hard angles and his thinning hair, felt more like a rock than a person.

"I'm about to be punished _again_," Gilag grunted, snatching the pillow from Alit and stifling the blood flow with it.

Alit tilted his head curiously, his dark locks falling over his right eye. "So you are. I assume that wasn't our esteemed Lord Vector who ripped what looks like a spear through your chest."

"Lance."

"Ah. The Kamishiro man, then."

"The Kamishiro twins."

Alit whistled. "Vector's going to be all kinds of ticked about that one. No Tsukumo, then?"

"No. Just the Kamishiros."

"Interesting." Alit frowned and twirled his hair.

"Are you going to help me or not?" Gilag grumbled.

The younger man shrugged and pulled himself to a sitting position. He reached into an inner pocket of his blood-red cloak and pulled out a small purple bottle and handed it to Gilag, who snatched it and drank the viscous contents in one gulp. He grimaced as an acrid flavor burned his throat the entire way down. It was like biting into an overripe lemon. "Disgusting."

Alit raised an eyebrow as the blood flow slowed and stopped in rapid succession. "Well, next time I'll let you bleed to death, then. While I have you, there seems to have been a bit of confusion in some orders you left someone to tell me. See, that person told someone else something, who told someone else, who told like four others who all told a few other people, with the result that I'm not entirely sure I know what the original orders were. Am I correct in understanding that Vector wants me to do something with Tsukumo's sister and grandmother? Kill them, perhaps?"

"Take them to Arclight alive," Gilag grunted.

"May I ask why Arclight and why alive?"

"Something about the girl's father having something to do with the Astral World. Durbe knows, probably. I didn't ask for specifics, see." He pointed to his shoulder and gave Alit a meaningful look.

"Fair enough." Alit hopped off the bed and waved his hand, forming his portal right in front of Gilag. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have to do that and then resume hunting and putting an end to Lieutenant Tsukumo and the crown prince of the Astral Kingdom."

"Don't let a Healer incapacitate you again."

Alit chuckled. "It wasn't the first time a woman has knocked me out and it won't be the last. Ciao." He waved jovially and stepped back, leaving Gilag leaning heavily against the bed.

Incredible how much trouble two freaks of nature could cause a man.


	6. The Wild Girl

**Chapter 6: The Wild Girl**

A soft scratching of pen against paper was the only sound in the cavernous library at the Arclight Palace when Mizael walked stiffly through the door, yellow cloak trailing behind him. He strode to the small, silver haired human sitting at a highly polished oak desk next to one of the lofty stained glass windows. It was late at night; no light filtered in the window. The only light came from a small oil lamp by which the human was scribbling what looked like a detailed report.

"You're back early," the writer remarked, adjusting his glasses without looking up.

Mizael stopped and looked distastefully at the man's vest and ruffled yellow scarf. "Why are you in your human form, Durbe?"

Durbe didn't answer right away. He signed the paper he was scribing with a flourish and set the pen down before taking a sip from a mug sitting in front of him. "Well, Mizael, surely you noticed that our hands are ill-equipped for frequent pen-holding?" He held up his neatly manicured hands. "These human hands are much more dexterous. And besides," he added, straightening his scarf, "I've become rather fond of these clothes. I can't enjoy the pleasures of fashion and good coffee in my true form."

Mizael snorted softly and pulled his hood down. Incredible how Durbe felt perfectly comfortable wearing simple clothing in his true form, yet insisted on dressing up in his human form. Ruffled sleeves, crisply ironed blue vest, polished buckled shoes. It was an almost pretentious outfit. And he had been spending quite a lot of time in his human form lately. "Coffee and clothes. You're growing soft, Durbe."

"Probably. But that's why I'm the thinker and you're the warrior, isn't that right?" He gently blew on the ink to dry it faster.

"Speaking of which, Vector wants to know why you haven't gotten anything out of the Tsukumo family yet."

"Did you tell him that I've had them for all of three days and have a host of other things that are higher on my list of priorities?"

Mizael unlaced his vest and pulled the left sleeve of his shirt down, revealing a wicked burn that covered his collarbone and over his shoulder. "Yes I did. He didn't like it too much."

Durbe's eyes lingered on the burn as his lips tightened. "Was that before or after you tried to shove your fingers through his neck?"

"I'm hurt that you would accuse me of having anything but the utmost respect for the beloved Emperor of the Astral Kingdom." Mizael didn't bother masking the revulsion in his voice, and Durbe couldn't fail to notice it.

"You should know better than to antagonize him, Mizael. I've been telling you for thirty years to be careful around him."

"Maybe he shouldn't tell me what to do when he knows I take orders from _you_, not him."

"You should get that Healed."

"I will when Vector's done hurling fireballs at me. No point bothering the Healer twice in one day for the same injuries. Did you know that Gilag found the Kamishiro twins?" Mizael gingerly pulled his sleeve up and re-laced his vest.

Durbe looked mildly surprised as he took another sip of his coffee. "Oh? Clearly he failed to kill them or you would be a little happier."

"He took a lance through the stomach and between the captain and the girl, they killed twenty soldiers."

"The _girl_ does have a name, Mizael, as you know full well. Also, she's a fully grown woman, not a girl."

"They're half-breed Astralite science projects. I don't need to call them by their names."

Durbe sighed and set his cup down. "Fine, then. I guess I'll head over to Tenjo and see if I can't convince the prince to do a favor for his mentor's new friend. Maybe he'll be successful where Gilag has failed, mm?"

His voice was probably disapproving, because Mizael raised an eyebrow. "Do you even _want_ them dead?"

Durbe rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I would like to study them, to see what it is that makes them tick. Even though the captain is still badly injured by the Barian weapons, they don't kill him like they do others with Astralite blood. His sister is not only unaffected by them, but can _control_ them. It's a shame that we killed all the other Dragoons, because they would undoubtedly have been a mine of fascinating information." He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on his lap. If Mizael didn't know better, he'd have thought Durbe was regretting the fate of the Dragoon village. Maybe he was, for the bounty of scientific knowledge that destroying the Dragoons had cost him. "But… the others want them dead, and I doubt either would be amenable to being studied like lab rats. They'd probably take their own lives first to _escape the shame_ or whatever nonsense they grew up being force-fed." He reached for his coffee again but paused when he realized it was empty. Had he really gone through an entire cup already?

"Well, I guess you're going to have to abandon your dreams for a science project of your own with the pair of them. Getting back to the main point, shall I inform Vector that the conquest of the continent is more important at present than gaining information about the Astral World that the Tsukumo family likely has no knowledge of in the first place, or would you like to?"

Durbe sighed again as he pushed his glasses back up. "I'll come with you. Maybe he'll hold off causing you excessive physical pain if I'm with you. I outrank him, anyway." He stood and headed for the door.

Mizael rolled his eyes as he followed. "I'm sure he will. If you'll kindly change before we go, Vector isn't terribly fond of us waltzing around in our pitiful human forms in his presence and I don't feel up to listening to one of his long-winded speeches about our superiority as a race when he sees that a fellow Emperor likes to gallivant around as a human drinking _coffee_."

* * *

The nearly full moon shone like a beacon, lighting the rocky path in front of three young refugees stumbling over the rugged landscape. One paused, halfway up a steep incline, and reached back for a hunched figure. They gripped hands and the first gently pulled the second up the slope. A third figure leaned on a staff with one hand, the other clutching the second figure's in a single-file line.

They had been scrambling up the cliff face for nearly four hours by the leader's calculations as he watched the moon travel across the spangled black sky. The moon was close to disappearing behind the rocky peaks from this angle, and it would plunge them into semidarkness unless they got about a thousand feet higher in the next ten minutes. It wasn't possible, the rate they were lumbering.

Neither Kotori nor Astral were used to strenuous exercise. Yuma had, of course, travelled the mountains a number of times with his scouting parties, but as a Healer, Kotori spent her days rushing around hospital rooms and Astral was expected to learn politics and war in the safety of his library instead of in the field. His body was thin and weak, and though he tried to hide it from Yuma, he had a hard time drawing breath. The higher they climbed, the colder the air became, and the more lightheaded he found himself.

Yuma noticed. He gestured at some boulders sitting on a short level part of the mountain. "Let's rest here for a bit," he encouraged, and Kotori and Astral collapsed next to a few of the boulders.

Kotori pulled a thin blanket from her satchel and huddled up against a boulder. "I know the Captain insisted we travel during the night, but I'm exhausted. Can we sleep?" Her voice was as weary as Yuma had ever heard it. He could hardly blame her; they had spent the evening trudging through the forest and up a mountainside, and she had Healed three people who had been gravely injured by Barian weapons just a few hours before. He had to admire her resilience.

"Yeah," he said softly. "In fact, Astral, you should sleep too. I'll take first watch."

Astral obediently laid his blanket on the ground and pulled his cloak tightly around himself as Yuma propped himself a short way off, closer to the lower path, and stared northward. Astral couldn't get comfortable no matter which way he turned; he felt the rocks on the ground digging into him through the shabby blanket and the air was bitterly cold. He found himself longing for his plush silk-covered bed and hot cup of juniper tea and felt a twinge of shame at the luxuries he had been born into.

The mountainside plunged into darkness. Astral's eyes flickered upward, widening at the amplified brightness of the stars. Though still far away, their bright twinkling amazed him. He sat up. Yuma sat like a statue, still gazing northward – home, Astral realized with a sickening lurch. He gathered his blanket, tightened his cloak, and joined Yuma.

"I told you to sleep," Yuma murmured, not looking at him.

Astral folded the blanket and sat on it, tucking his legs into his cloak. "It's impossible to sleep when it's so cold and my bed is made of rocks." He watched Yuma's face. The normally optimistic expression on his face was gone, replaced with a solemn look of a much older man. "What's on your mind?"

Yuma's lips twitched in a humorless smile. "What isn't?"

Astral followed his gaze, just above the horizon. "What are you looking at?"

"The stars."

The prince tilted his head. "What about them?"

"Captain Kamishiro liked – likes – stargazing. He taught me a few things on a scouting party one night."

"Tell me about them."

Yuma raised an eyebrow at Astral. "Why?"

"Something to keep my mind off the cold."

Astral made out a small smile in the darkness. Yuma lifted a gloved hand and slid his fingers through the air, tracing shapes among the stars. It was fascinating, stargazing. Some of the shapes made no sense to Astral – Yuma swore one was a lion when it looked more like a horse, and the "bear" looked nothing like the bears Astral had seen in books. He had never seen one with a long tail, for starters. He understood the Hunter chasing down the Dragon (which looked unpleasantly like the Barian crest), and Yuma showed him how to trace the Hunter's belt back to the brightest star in the sky.

"And that one there," Yuma traced a couple of what looked like sticks above the Dragon, "is the Twins-" His face crumpled and his hand went limp, falling back to his lap. Astral understood. He reached for Yuma's hand but hesitated halfway there. He was never very good at consoling.

"They're both very skilled warriors," he murmured.

Yuma turned to him. "I'm still so worried. They were both badly injured." He sounded on the cusp of tears.

"They're proud. They feel they failed not only their village and race, but their adopted kingdom as well. They have to prove themselves."

"I will never understand the Dragoon culture. The things they believe are-" He fell silent, tightening his cloak around his shoulders. "Forgive me for speaking out of turn, my Lord."

Astral nodded absently and turned his eyes back to the path they had travelled. He could see the pinpricks of light from the palace, miles away now. "All we can do for them now is pray for their success, as I am sure they will pray for ours."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yuma tense. By the way Yuma's hands clenched, Astral knew Yuma felt that prayer was about as effective as speaking to a tree.

It was painful; Yuma had been so full of optimism and faith when he first became a soldier.

"There was one thing I couldn't tell him." Yuma's voice quivered; not from the cold, but from fear. Despair. Anger. Astral could see it in the way he stared blankly down the path, shoulders hunched.

"The Captain?"

"Yes. When I was in the village, I went to my grandmother's house. My grandmother and sister were gone."

It took Astral a second to realize what Yuma was trying to say. He hadn't realized Yuma had a sister. He never spoke of her. "You mean…"

"The Barians have them."

The frigid air felt suddenly arctic.

"The last time I spoke to Akari was over two years ago, when I joined the Guard. She didn't want me to enlist, and we had a fight. She told me I was going to end up dead and that she didn't want to see me again until I came to my senses and quit. She didn't even answer my letter when I told her about my coronation ceremony." He laughed bitterly. "I wish she'd come, because then she would be dead like everyone else in the palace instead of the Barians' prisoner. She'd be better off that way."

"You don't mean that." Astral felt sick; it was like talking to a different person entirely, one he suddenly didn't feel comfortable being around.

"I know exactly what I mean, Astral."

Astral could not recall one time in the past year that he had known Yuma where Yuma had neglected to use an honorific when speaking to him. He didn't like this Yuma. He was angry, vengeful.

"At any rate, I couldn't tell the captain about it because our mission is important. So much more important. But I am afraid my anger toward the Barians will cloud my judgment, and I want you – I need you – to make sure that my choices are driven by pragmatism and not revenge."

"I… will do my best," Astral murmured. "But Yuma… may I ask… why didn't your sister want you to enlist?"

Yuma was silent for a long moment and Astral wondered if he would answer. At last, he did.

"Because my father enlisted and now he's dead."

Astral hugged himself. Yes, he very badly missed the Yuma of last week.

Even though he knew without a doubt that the Yuma who made silly jokes and dozed off during etiquette classes would never be back.

"We both need rest," Yuma said shortly, pulling himself to his feet. He reached down for Astral's hand and helped him up.

"Yuma," Astral said hesitantly as they approached Kotori's relentlessly shivering form, "what did you and the captain say to one another when we left?"

Yuma paused in the act of removing his cloak and turned his head away. "He… told me to be careful."

He placed himself next to Kotori and tossed his cloak over them. Yuma held up the cloak, inviting Astral to join them, to share the little body warmth they had on that cold mountain.

Astral hesitantly slipped under the cloak, Kotori's body pressing against his, and closed his eyes, listening to Kotori's soft breaths. Yuma's arm draped over Kotori and rested on Astral's chest.

_He told me to be careful._

_You either, Ryoga._

They didn't match up.

* * *

Vector stood by the window, glancing out into the palace gardens as the rising sun cast a warm light over the sleeping blossoms. His hand twitched convulsively; he rather wanted to hurl a fireball into the gardens and watch everything turn to smoldering ash. He contented himself instead with turning back to Gilag, kneeling and shaking on the floor, and leaned back against the wall.

"Not once, but _twice._ How is it to fail twice at the same simple task?"

He watched Gilag's hand clench but the hulking Barian remained silent otherwise.

Vector took a step forward. Another. Another. Each step slow and precise, to allow for the most dramatic feeling of doom to settle over the hapless Barian before him. When he reached him, he leaned down, face next to Gilag's.

"I told you the price for failure would be steep."

Gilag let out a strangled yell as Vector's hand pressed his back, skin blistering as Vector's magic seared through his armor, melting it onto his skin-

"That's enough."

The pressure lifted, but the melted metal slid down his back, bubbling away at his skin as it went. Gilag whimpered in pain, tears streaming down his face as he hunched over, looking up just enough to see the hem of a white travelling cloak.

"This doesn't concern you," Vector spat.

The cloaked figure approached him and Gilag felt a pair of hands grip him under the arm. "Stand, Gilag."

With the newcomer's aid, he managed to pull himself to his feet and looked down into Durbe's narrowed grey eyes. He tried to thank him but his blistering back seared with pain and he let out a choked whimper instead. Durbe's eyes darted away from Gilag and settled on Vector, who crossed his arms and glared at Durbe.

"Where's Mizael?"

"Waiting for me in the hall. Speaking of which, I would be very careful about attacking _my_ generals in the future if I were you, Vector."

"I would tell him to stop treating a lord like a foot soldier if he would rather I not get angry. Just because you let him talk to _you_ like that doesn't mean he can talk to the rest of us the same."

"Gilag is coming back with me," Durbe said in a dangerously low voice. "I will not permit you to punish him as a substitute for your own failures in killing Prince Astral and the Kamishiro siblings."

"You have no authority in my-"

Durbe reached into his cloak and pulled out a thick letter. "On the contrary, I have the other lords' permission to take Gilag and Alit back to Arclight. Effective immediately. If you have any issues, I suggest you take it up with them."

Vector snatched the letter from his hand and ripped it open. His violet eyes narrowed as he read it, and his hand clenched around it as it burst into flames.

Durbe impassively watched the letter disintegrate. His eyes flickered back to Vector's. "I believe you also had a book of Captain Kamishiro's for me?"

"I took the liberty of sending it with Alit back to Arclight along with the Tsukumo family," Vector said crossly.

"Very well." Durbe rested his hand on Gilag's arm and guided him to the towering doors. "I'll be in Arclight if you need me, Vector."

With fists still clenched, Vector watched the smallest lord lead his hulking general out of the throne room by the arm.

"Your empathy is your greatest weakness, Durbe," he muttered. "It'll get you in trouble one of these days."

* * *

The sun hadn't yet crept over the tops of the mountains when Yuma awoke a few hours later, his face smothered in Kotori's hair, yet the sky was lightening. It was still bitterly cold; a slight breeze had even picked up. He carefully disentangled himself and found that both she and Astral were already awake.

They sat up and pulled their cloaks tighter. Astral winced as he rubbed the back of his neck and shoulders. They were painfully stiff and hurt when he moved his head. He wished he had thought to place his bag under his head as a pillow for some support, but it was too late now. Yuma helped Kotori roll up the blankets and put them back in the bags and to Astral's relief, Kotori rubbed the back of her neck too.

"What's wrong?" Yuma frowned at the pair of them.

"I'm not accustomed to sleeping on rocks, Yuma," Kotori grumbled. "I'm going to make a salve to help with the muscle tension, if that's all right with you."

Yuma glanced back down the mountain path and let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine, but hurry. There's no telling how long it'll take them to catch up to us now that it's morning."

Astral heard a few surprising words escape Kotori under her breath as she knelt down and pulled a few vials from her bag and began mixing them together in a small bowl.

Astral watched Yuma pace the rocky ledge. He felt something strange in the air that he couldn't figure out; from Yuma's narrowed eyes and grip on his sword hilt, he was sure Yuma felt it too.

It wasn't Barian, Astral was certain of that, but some other danger lay in the mountains, something… unnatural.

After about fifteen minutes, Kotori finished the salve and called Astral over to rub some on his neck. He gasped; it was like placing an ice pack on his neck, but not two minutes later it suddenly felt like a warming stone had replaced the ice pack.

It was wonderful, but he wished it didn't have such a strong peppermint smell to it.

"Can we go?" Yuma sounded apprehensive.

"Is something the matter?" Kotori carefully scooped the remaining salve into a small jar and placed it back in her bag.

"Something's here," Yuma muttered, reaching for his sword and jumping backward.

His sword was in his hand just in time for an enormous beast to leap down from a rocky overhang, landing gracefully where Yuma had been seconds before. Kotori let out a shriek that Astral quickly muffled by placing his hand over her mouth.

The beast growled at Yuma and drew its ears back, tail swishing in what Astral took to be anticipation for a nice meal. It reminded him of a cat, only seven times bigger and made entirely of muscle instead of the fluffy fur and belly fat of the palace cats that spent their days sauntering after mice.

"What is that?" Kotori managed to choke out, pulling Astral's hand from her mouth.

Yuma and the beast circled one another, Yuma holding his sword between himself and it. "A mountain lion. They're rare at this elevation, though." His voice was surprisingly calm. "Don't move. Anything that runs near a mountain lion is prey begging to be chased. Kotori, raise your staff. Anything that looks like a weapon will help keep it at bay. If I can't scare it off, I may have to kill it."

Astral doubted that anything could scare off a monster like this and his fears were confirmed a few seconds later when the lion let out a vicious roar that sounded nothing like the quiet mewling of the palace cats.

Yuma swore and held his sword higher. "All right, then."

He took a step forward and thrust his sword into the cat's left shoulder. It roared again, a clear bellow of pain and anger, and bounded forward onto Yuma's chest, threw him back against the ground, and landed on him.

The only thing keeping the monster from biting off Yuma's face was the sword Yuma managed to throw up between them, but it had one of his arms pinned uncomfortably tight against his chest and a stream of saliva slid from the cat's mouth onto Yuma's face.

Astral couldn't move; the sight of one of the best swordmasters in the Astral Kingdom being pinned by a giant feline while it drooled on him was a rather horrifying thing.

The lion was too focused on Yuma to pay attention to the woman walking slowly toward it from the side, holding her staff tightly, and therefore wasn't prepared when she swung the staff into the side of its head, knocking it off balance. Yuma dragged himself from under it and pulled his sword back to finish it before the lion staggered off in the opposite direction.

Astral finally regained use of his limbs and approached Kotori and Yuma, who were both breathing heavily. Yuma ran his sleeve across his face and looked up at Kotori. "I can't believe you did that _again_."

"I can't believe you put yourself in a position where requiring me to do that again was even necessary," she snapped. "What if it comes back?"

He shakily climbed to his feet. He probably could have used some of Kotori's herbs for the pain in his back, but he wanted more to put as much distance between them and the Barians as possible. "Keep your eyes open."

* * *

The sun had fully risen by the time they reached the top of the mountain. The air was thinner here, and colder, and the unimpeded wind roared around them. Yuma drew Kotori and Astral close to him as they began the descent down the other side of the mountain into the Heartland boundaries. From here, he could see the place where the Galaxy and Revise Rivers met, and as he looked out over the vast Wyvern Forest on the other side of the Galaxy River, he wondered if his commander had made it into Arclight yet.

_Don't be an idiot. You can't get into Tenjo without crossing through Arclight or Heartland. We should stay together until we get to Heartland and you can go east to Tenjo there. It's safer._

_Smaller groups mean it's harder to track us. And there's not enough time. Rio and I will be fine._

Yuma began sliding down the slope. "Going down is easier on the lungs, but harder on the knees, so be careful."

It warmed up slightly in the next several hours, as the sun shined directly on the slopes they scrambled down. Several times, Yuma had to pause to help Astral or Kotori scramble over a fallen tree or guide them through scraggly brush that clawed at their ankles and tore through the hems of their cloaks. The east-facing slopes, facing away from the sun in the hottest part of the day, were filled with vegetation that didn't grow on the other side; leafy trees and bushes full of fruits and nuts were a blessed sight for the three weary refugees.

"I guess we won't have to worry about that lion anymore," Kotori sighed, sitting on a fallen log as she bit into a handful of blackberries.

"It could have come this way," Yuma said, scraping the thick peel of a citrus fruit with his knife. He had that uneasy feeling again. "Lions can cover a large hunting range and I don't think we've made it out of its territory just yet."

"No," a new voice said disapprovingly, "you haven't."

Yuma jumped off his log and wheeled around, sword flashing in his hands. The lion from that morning waited a short way up the hill with a badly wrapped shoulder, sitting next to the strangest looking young woman Yuma had ever laid eyes on.

Everything she wore, from her knee-high boots to her skirt to her vest, looked like they were made with wolf fur. Her long hair was silver, and fashioned into points on the top of her head that reminded Yuma of cat ears. He could see a tail trailing behind her and a whip attached to a belt around her waist. She glanced at Kotori and Astral before fixing Yuma with a piercing green-eyed stare.

"My friend tells me you attacked her," she said in an unpleasantly high-pitched trill.

_What_? "Your... friend… _told _you?" Yuma couldn't cover up his incredulity. She had to be a crazy girl who fancied herself some kind of animal whisperer, and even crazier for thinking a mountain lion was her friend.

"Do you not believe me?" She crossed her arms and glared down at him.

Yuma was about to tell her that no, he did not, when Astral's hand gripped his arm. "No, Yuma, I think she's telling the truth. I've heard of a race of people who were ostracized for being able to talk to animals. I thought they all died out but I think she's one of them."

"What do you mean, _talk to anim-_"

"I'm right here!" the woman snarled. "I can hear just fine." She hopped down the hill effortlessly and landed just outside sword range. "You were too close to my friend's cubs. She was trying to protect them and you _stabbed _her."

"She was trying to eat me!" Yuma snapped back. "She could have just growled at us and let us move on but she attacked me first."

She let out a shrill noise Yuma took for a laugh. "People like you come up in our home all the time and hunt my friends for sport. Why should I believe you?"

"Because we're being hunted too!" Yuma was losing his patience with this girl, but it was clear she wasn't going to let them go until she was satisfied somehow with their excuse for being there. "By the Barians-"

"Eh?" She frowned and scratched her chin with a lethal-looking fingernail. "Bears?"

"Barians," Yuma repeated slowly. "From the Barian Kingdom."

She gave him a bewildered look and tilted her head. "I don't know what that is."

"How do you not-" Yuma began impatiently before Astral grabbed his arm again.

"I don't think concepts like _kingdoms_ and _Barians_ mean anything to her," he whispered. "She's probably lived up here her whole life and only talked to people who are trying to pass through or here to hunt. Can I talk to her?"

Yuma threw up his hands conciliatorily and moved aside for Astral, who gave the girl a respectful bow. "My friends are Yuma and Kotori," he offered, pointing at them in turn. "I'm Astral, from the other side of the mountains. My friends and I are being hunted by bad people who killed my mother and father. We need to make it to the city by the river as soon as possible."

The girl put her finger in her mouth and contemplated Astral for a moment. "The bears killed your mommy and daddy?"

Astral shook his head. "Not bears. Barians. That's what they call themselves. They're bad people who are hunting me because I am…" He narrowed his eyes at the ground. "I am a leader of my people, and I have something they want." He touched the pendant hanging around his neck.

The girl nodded understandingly. "I'm Cathy. I'm the only one of my people left. The rest of us were hunted."

"I'm sorry."

Cathy's eyes flashed. "Did you do it?"

Astral shook his head. "No, no. It's something my people say when something bad happens to another. I mean that I understand what it's like to be hunted and to lose your family."

Her shoulders relaxed. "Do you think these… Barians… killed my people?"

His answer was no; the Barians wouldn't have had any way to get to the beast tamer clans along the mountains of the Heartland Kingdom in any significant numbers until recently, and these people had been hunted and killed until perhaps fifteen years ago. He wasn't even sure she was old enough to remember the details of her family's death.

"Perhaps. They've killed a lot of people. They killed an entire clan of warriors on the other side of the forest there." Astral pointed out over the Wyvern Forest.

"Sad," Cathy murmured. "Why?"

"Because they were a powerful people," Yuma interjected. "They were blessed with powers from the gods and the Barians feared that power."

Astral gave Yuma an exasperated look and turned back to Cathy, who had her brows furrowed in confusion. "The Barians get their power from what we call the Barian World. It opposes the Astral World, which gives powers to people who swear to fight the Barians."

Cathy still looked a little lost, but she pulled her shoulders back. "Like you? You said you had something they wanted."

"Yes," Astral said hesitantly.

"Show me."

Astral sighed and held up a hand.

"Lord Astral, no!" Kotori broke her silence and grabbed his wrist. "You can't, not here. If the Barians sense you summoning Hope, they'll know where we are-"

Astral tugged his hand free. "Let them come," he said quietly, slashing across his body with his hand. "I will destroy them all."

"Astral-" Yuma began furiously, but it was too late.

Cathy's mouth fell open and she stumbled backward as the swirling black portal formed overhead, wind whipping furiously on a mountainside that had nothing but a gently whispering breeze a moment before. As Hope descended gracefully and landed behind his master, Cathy's eyes gazed back toward Astral in amazement.

"I want to come with you," she declared. "Help make my friend better and I will join you. I want to help you keep the… Barians… from hurting anyone else."


	7. Table Talk

**Chapter 7: Table Talk**

"…negotiations with Emperor Durbe and King Byron…"

Kaito Tenjo leaned his head on the cool window pane, watching the soft spring rain patter against the palace walls as the messenger read a letter to him. He was sick to death of the whole situation. Negotiations with the Barian Empire that involved allowing Tenjo to remain sovereign were impossible at this point. They'd swallowed Arclight and Astral; those kingdoms dwarfed Tenjo and Heartland and when they decided his kingdom should be incorporated into the Barian Empire, it would be.

"…Emperor Vector's proclamation regarding the escape of the Kamishiro twins…"

Perhaps it would be better to give in to the Barians now while there was a chance. Arclight had resisted and its king had been tortured into insanity.

Astral had fought and its royal family had been slaughtered.

He didn't want the same fate to fall on his family.

"Lord Kaito?"

He jerked out of his stupor. He hadn't realized the messenger was done reading the letter.

"Is… is Chris here yet?"

"Lord Arclight?" The messenger shook his head. "He'll be here this evening for dinner. He's coming with Emperor Durbe."

"What?" Kaito spun around and uncrossed his arms. "Durbe?"

The messenger flinched. "Y-yes, my lord, I just finished reading the letter he wrote..."

Kaito's eyes darted out the window again. "So they're not even giving me a chance to respond…" He closed his eyes. The last couple of weeks had been draining. Even before the fall of the Astral Kingdom, the Barians had been prodding him, trying to see how he would respond if they made their move on his kingdom next.

"What does my father say?"

"Lord Faker… wants to see how tonight's dinner plays out before making a decision."

"I see." Kaito folded his arms again. "You're dismissed."

He heard the messenger shuffle uncertainly. "My lord, what of your-"

"If my father sees fit to wait and see, then I will not countermand his wishes," Kaito snapped. "Now go."

"Y-yes, my lord…"

Kaito waited until the door closed behind him to sink into the nearest chair and rest his head on his folded hands.

* * *

Kaito was greeted at the door by a young servant and invited inside his brother's room. He dismissed the servant, who bowed and closed the door behind him.

"Brother." The young man sitting by the window wore the same tight white trousers and blue coat as his brother, except the sash across his chest was green instead of blue. A small smile lit his pale face.

"Haruto." Kaito smiled back and approached him. "How are your headaches today?"

"Better than yesterday," Haruto murmured, running his hands over the sash. "These clothes aren't very comfortable, though."

"I know. We have an important dinner ahead of us, though." Kaito sat in the chair next to his brother and brushed his hand across his forehead. "You're warm. I'll get you an ice pack before they arrive."

Haruto pushed Kaito's hand away. "I don't like the thought of the Barians being here, Brother."

"I don't either, but we have to do it. For our kingdom."

"Are they going to be in their true forms? Their true forms frighten me."

Kaito pulled his brother to his feet and embraced him. Though eighteen years old, Haruto's body and mind had barely progressed past that of perhaps a thirteen year old, and he was thin and frail. Kaito was smaller than average as well, and Haruto barely made it to his shoulders. "They frighten me too. They'll be in their human forms, I'm sure."

"What if they want to take over our kingdom like they did with Chris's?" Haruto pulled himself free and looked up at his brother. "What if we have to bow to the Barians?"

Kaito took Haruto by the shoulders and smiled with much more confidence than he actually felt. "We won't, I promise."

* * *

No expense had been spared preparing the dining hall for this dinner. The ceiling-high windows had been cleaned and the curtains tied back so a view of the Galaxy River could be seen from the highly polished mahogany table laden with silver platters holding potatoes, roasts, breads, cheeses, and a wide array of fruits. A servant dressed in navy trousers and a crisply ironed white shirt waited near a table where several bottles of fine wine sat unopened in bowls of ice.

The brothers and their father stood by the door inside the hall as they waited for the Barians to arrive. Haruto tugged nervously at the hem of his coat and Lord Faker grabbed his hand.

"Be still," he whispered.

"I don't want them here," Haruto whispered back irritably.

Faker gave Kaito an exasperated look over Haruto's head and Kaito shrugged unapologetically.

The doors opened, and two unfamiliar men walked through them. The smaller of the two had short silver hair and wore an entirely white suit, from the knee-length coat to his shoes to the gloves on his hands, and everything was hemmed and embroidered in gold. His much taller companion had long blond hair and wore a set of gold robes touching his red slippers, with a slit in the sides up to his thighs, a pair of red trousers underneath. Kaito's eyes fell on the thin sword attached to the thin red rope tied around his waist; the wire-wrap around the handle was fashioned into the shape of an ornate dragon.

With minor differences, it looked remarkably like Kaito's own sword.

"Welcome to the Tenjo Kingdom," Faker said, bowing. Kaito pulled his eyes away from the man's sword and followed suit, as did Haruto, albeit reluctantly. "Allow me to introduce my sons, Kaito and Haruto."

The silver-haired man returned a courteous bow. "It is a pleasure," he said in a surprisingly deep voice. "I am Durbe, of the Seven Barian Lords. This is my most trusted general, Mizael."

Mizael inclined his shoulders slightly and Kaito studied his face. He had strange red tattoos above his eyebrows and below his eyes, and there was a golden ornament dangling from the wing-shaped protrusion of hair on the left side of his head. His sharp blue eyes met Kaito's grey ones and they stared at one another before Kaito became aware of a third visitor.

"…sure I don't need to formally introduce Lord Chris Arclight," Durbe was saying.

His arrival did a great deal in cheering up Haruto, who beamed as a tall man with long white hair entered the hall and bowed in turn to the royal family. Unlike everyone else, he wore his normal palace attire instead of formal wear; under a long blue coat hemmed in white he wore a white shirt and a blue vest, and his grey-blue trousers were loose.

"My lord," he murmured to Faker, who smiled warmly and returned the bow. "Lord Kaito. Lord Haruto."

It was a ridiculous show of courtesy for the Barians, of course; Chris and Kaito had been close friends for over fifteen years. There was no need for formality otherwise.

"Shall we?" Faker suggested, gesturing toward the table.

"Of course, thank you." Durbe took the seat to the right of Faker, as was customary for honored guests. Mizael waited until Durbe offered him the seat next to him, and Chris took the seat next to Mizael. Kaito and Haruto sat on the opposite side of the table on Faker's left.

"Let us thank the gods of the Astral World for blessing our kingdom with bounty," Faker announced as a servant filled his glass with a deep red wine, and Kaito caught Durbe's pursed lips and a barely concealed eye roll from Mizael. His hands tightened on his lap in anger as he murmured a rather stiff _amen_ before Faker invited everyone to eat. _So they come to someone else's kingdom and mock their beliefs, do they? _He was certain this was a sign of how the rest of the night would go and he wasn't going to stand for it.

"Father," he said loudly as Durbe reached for the potatoes with one hand while holding his glass with the other as a servant poured wine into it, "I think we should thank the Barian god for keeping our friends in good health."

Durbe's hand froze mid-air and the servant pouring the wine accidentally spilled some on the table. No one noticed.

"That… won't be necessary," Durbe said, flashing a quick glance at Mizael, who hadn't moved.

"I insist." Kaito waved the third servant toward him, who filled his glass with a white grape wine. He lifted it. "A thanks to Don Thousand, for preserving Lord Durbe and General Mizael with health and wisdom, and may they enjoy many more years of triumph."

He drank deeply from his glass, and noted with inward satisfaction that he was the only one to do so. Haruto looked puzzled, Faker mortified, Chris as though he wanted to evaporate, and he wouldn't have been surprised if the glass in Durbe's hand shattered and the food in front of Mizael caught fire.

Mizael found words first. "You can't use his-"

"Mizael," Durbe interrupted sharply without looking at him.

"Durbe, he just-"

Durbe cleared his throat loudly and the general fell silent, though he continued to glare at Kaito. "Thank you, Lord Kaito, for your… consideration."

There was an awkward pause before Durbe resumed his reach for the potatoes and everybody took the opportunity to fill their plates.

"I don't think you should have said that," Haruto whispered over the clanging of spoons on silver. "I think you insulted their god."

"They insulted ours first, so I think it's all right," Kaito whispered back. Down the table, Chris gave him a pained look and mouthed _don't speak for the rest of the night _at him, which Kaito ignored, and turned his attention back to Mizael, who had made no effort to reach for any food.

"Is the food not to your satisfaction, General? We didn't poison it, you know."

Faker let out a soft moan and buried his face in his hand.

Mizael's eyes narrowed at him. "I would prefer-"

Durbe cut him off again. "Don't be rude, Mizael. Have some roast; it's very tender."

Mizael's shoulders stiffened but he took the meat from the proffered platter and grabbed a fork.

"Not that one," Kaito heard Durbe whisper.

"What?"

"It's this one." Durbe leaned over and tapped one of the forks.

Mizael let out a frustrated sigh, slammed down the fork in his hand, and picked up the one Durbe pointed to.

Kaito carefully chewed a chunk of cheese and forced himself to remain expressionless. It was clear that Durbe didn't take his _most trusted general_ to diplomatic functions with any regularity. The two had an unusual relationship as well; Kaito couldn't imagine someone subservient to him arguing with him or neglecting to attach an honorific to his name, but Mizael, despite his lower station, treated Durbe as an _equal_.

Curious, he thought, but then, Mizael was Durbe's _most trusted general_ for a reason, whatever the reason might be, and it was likely that Mizael's uncouth behavior was excusable in some way because of it.

Dinner passed in silence for nearly five minutes before Haruto set down his fork and looked at the Barians. "So what are you going to do to us?"

It was Chris's turn to bury his face in his hand, and Faker set down his glass with more force than was probably necessary. "Please forgive my sons for their disrespect, Lord Durbe. They are… anxious about the possible outcomes of this meeting."

"Understandably so," Durbe murmured, taking a sip of wine. "They no doubt look to the fates that befell King Byron and the palace at Astral and wonder if they too will meet a gruesome end."

"I'm sure neither kingdom's fate was necessary," Kaito said, setting his knife down.

"Sometimes unpleasant realities must occur for the benefit of the people as a whole," Durbe said, undeterred.

"Murdering an entire family is an unpleasant reality?" Kaito countered, ignoring his father's hushed attempts to silence him. "Torturing a king into madness is an unpleasant reality? Wiping an entire _race of people from existence_ is an unpleasant reality? If I didn't know you would take it as a compliment instead of an insult, I would call you inhuman monsters."

"Kaito!" Faker had half-climbed to his feet by this point. "Hold your _tongue_!"

"No, no, he has a valid concern," Durbe said, waving his hand to calm Faker. "It's not the fact that we took over two countries by bloodshed that bothers you, Lord Kaito, because humans do it all the time. Torture and genocide and regicide are all perfectly normal in the course of human events, but it's easy to forget those and focus on when the _monsters_ invade kingdoms and do precisely the same thing. Because then it's good versus evil. Humans versus Barians. The line between right and wrong is hard to see when it's conflict between humans, but when _we're_ thrown into the mix, suddenly it's clear as day. _This is evil_, you say, because you can put a face to the evil, and it doesn't look like yours so you feel okay about it. Am I right, Lord Kaito?"

Silence fell again. Kaito's hand shook as he reached for a jam tart that he wasn't even hungry for anymore. Across the table, Mizael stared at his barely-touched plate, lips pressed together. What was bothering _him_?

"Well, this is a heavy conversation," Durbe said, taking a pastry. "Let's talk about something else. Lord Haruto, I hear you have debilitating headaches."

Haruto seized up and looked over toward his brother with terror in his eyes. Kaito gripped his shoulder in what he hoped was reassurance and shot a glare down the table at Chris, who was focused on cutting his potatoes.

"It's none of your business," Kaito said icily. Faker gave him a warning look, but he didn't care.

"Actually," Durbe said, holding up a finger as he swallowed his bite of pastry, "it's got a lot to do with why we're here."

"I don't understand," Faker said, frowning. "Are you saying you have a cure for his headaches?"

"Not a _cure_ per se," Durbe admitted, inclining his head, "but it would help to know as much as we can about it before I can make a suggestion. Are these headaches accompanied by night terrors, high fevers, and, perhaps, unexplained and destructive bursts of energy?"

Kaito's hand tightened on Haruto's shoulder as the blood in Haruto's face drained. There was no way he could have known any of that. Not unless-

"Chris," Kaito began stiffly.

"I can explain this later," Chris said in a soft voice.

"I assume I'm correct, then," Durbe said, wiping his hands on his napkin.

Kaito stood up and slammed his hands on the table. Haruto recoiled in his chair. "What the hell do you want from us?"

"Please sit down, this is a diplomatic dinner," Durbe said sharply. "We're going to act like civilized adults, unless you wish to be treated as a child."

Kaito opened his mouth but his father interrupted him. "Kaito, for the gods' sakes, just sit down and be _quiet_."

Kaito's hands clenched as he slowly lowered himself back in his chair.

"That's better," Durbe said. "Now, Haruto, tell me about your nightmares. We may be able to help."

Haruto looked up at Kaito, eyes widened in what Kaito knew was terror. It was the same look he had when he woke up from the very nightmares Durbe was asking him to recount. "Brother-"

"It's okay," Kaito whispered, taking Haruto by the hand. "Just… don't close your eyes. Look right at them. If they can help… it's okay." He hated that his hand trembled, hated that he had to lie to his brother, because Haruto was _never_ okay when he talked about his nightmares, and he knew the Barians would only help him if there was some way they could benefit from it.

Most of all, he hated the understanding, the trust, that filled Haruto's eyes, because Haruto trusted him and he was too weak to stand up to the Barians any longer.

Haruto took a shuddering breath and stared intently at the wall behind Durbe. "They're always the same," he began before looking once more at Kaito, who nodded reassuringly. "The sky is black. Raining. Houses burning, people screaming. And… and a person is standing in the shadows… with a dragon above him. The dragon… is the cause of the suffering."

Durbe stared into his wine glass and frowned, brows furrowed in concentration. To his left, Mizael gazed at him with an almost matching expression. "A rare gift," he murmured, half to himself. "A very rare gift."

_Gift_? Kaito couldn't think of anything that was less of a gift than for his precious brother to be tormented nightly by headaches, burning fevers, and dreams filled with death and horror.

"Many years ago, the heir to the Astral Kingdom experienced remarkably similar symptoms," Durbe went on. "He dreamt of destruction just as you do, and he would be tormented with headaches and fevers. Eventually, when he was eleven years old, he destroyed an entire wing of the palace in his sleep from an extremely powerful burst of energy. Physicians were summoned even from Arclight to see to him, and in the end, it was a Healer who deduced that Prince Astral had powers given him by the Astral World." He looked up at Haruto. "He found that he could summon a spirit from the Astral World at will, and the figure in his dreams was the spirit he was able to summon."

A heavy silence fell over the hall and Haruto gripped Kaito's hand on his shoulder.

"And my son… my son can do the same." Faker clutched the sides of his chair.

Durbe shrugged. "Possibly. If that is the case, he's a danger to himself and those around him until he can learn to control his powers."

"I'm a freak." Haruto's high-pitched voice quivered. Kaito wrapped his arm around Haruto's shaking shoulders and pulled his rigid body closer to him.

Durbe gazed out the window behind the brothers at the last rays of sunlight casting warm spirals of color over the river. "Is the city in your dreams this city? Or is it another?"

Haruto shook his head. "I don't know, I've never seen it before, I just… it's… it's a city… in the mountains… drenched in red. Red like blood."

"Like… blood…?" There was a slight note of alarm in Durbe's voice.

"I think we should be going now," Mizael interrupted, pushing his chair back. To Kaito's surprise, Durbe nodded, his face knotted in concern.

"Yes, you're right," he muttered. He scooted his chair out and rose gracefully, picking up his white gloves. "Mizael and I need to return to Arclight. In the meantime, please consider allowing us to assist Haruto. We believe that if he is brought to Arclight, we will be able to allow him to exercise his powers in a controlled environment."

There it was, Kaito realized with a jolt of terror. His heart raced. The reason the Barians were here – they didn't talk about _negotiations_ at all. They didn't ask about the Tenjo Kingdom. They didn't care about anything…

…except Haruto.

They were going to use Haruto as a weapon to bring his own kingdom to its knees.

"Are you coming, Lord Chris?" Durbe offered, ignoring Kaito's wide-eyed realization.

Chris didn't look up from his half-empty plate. He shook his head. "No, I think I'll stay here for the night and come home in the morning."

Durbe glanced between him and the tight-lipped fury on Kaito's face and shrugged again. "Very well. We will return in two weeks' time to discuss more fully the sovereignty of the Tenjo family over this kingdom. We do hope it won't have to end in bloodshed. Lord Faker, thank you for allowing us to visit."

Without another word, he disappeared through the heavy doors, Mizael sparing a narrow-eyed glare at Kaito before following.

* * *

Kaito paced the sitting area of his living quarters, rubbing his eyes, as Chris sat rigidly in a nearby chair with his arms and legs crossed. Neither had spoken to the other in the nearly fifteen minutes they had been there. Chris would have preferred that Kaito raise his voice to him, even hit him, to this cold silence, because he deserved to be yelled at and he couldn't blame Kaito if he wanted to slap him. He tried to figure out the best way to explain to Kaito why he did what he did, why he told the Barians about Haruto, but no matter how much sense it made to him, Kaito was still going to be furious.

"I can't undo what I did," he said finally.

"You practically gave the Barians one of the most destructive weapons on the planet," Kaito spat.

"Haruto isn't a weapon," Chris said wearily.

"No, he isn't. But that's what the Barians see him as. That's what they're going to use him as. Gods, Chris, I thought you cared about him."

Chris uncrossed his arms and legs and stood facing Kaito. His stance was rigid, his hands clenched into fists. "Don't suggest that I don't love Haruto. I did it to keep him – and you – safe."

Kaito barked out a laugh. "Safe? They're going to use him to _kill_ people, Chris! You heard him! A figure summoning a dragon that destroyed an entire city! What if that figure is Haruto? How the hell is he safe? How am I going to sleep at night knowing that they're clawing their way into his soul, tainting him? How is he any better off this way than he would be if they just killed us?"

Chris grabbed Kaito by the shoulders and forced him into his vacated chair. He leaned close. "If they have a reason to keep you alive, that's all that matters."

"I'd rather be dead than have to serve those monsters." Kaito tried to shove Chris away, but he held firmly to the chair.

"Are you saying that I'm somehow less noble than you for accepting my family's fate rather than fight it? That because you're prepared to die, you're going to be somehow rewarded?"

"Chris-"

"No, listen to me. My father was a kind and wonderful man. He loved us, and we loved him. We still do. But now he's a madman, and he's never going to be the same again. That's the cost of resisting the Barians. It's too late to do anything now, short of open warfare. And you'd never use Haruto against them, because you would rather the blood be on your hands than his. Don't deprive him of the brother he loves and needs more than anything because you're too proud to kneel. Despite everything, they're right. He needs to learn to control his powers before he hurts himself or others and the only other person on the planet who might have been able to help him do so is now dead."

Kaito slumped in the chair and leaned his head against the side of it, gazing unfocusedly toward the fireplace. "What should I do, Chris? How can I live with myself?"

Chris knelt next to him and took his hand. "It will be hard waking up each morning. Trust me. But do what they say and keep yourself alive. For Haruto's sake."

Kaito nodded slowly. "For Haruto," he whispered. His eyes flickered back to Chris's face, and he gripped Chris's hand back. "Will you stay with me tonight?"

"You're not kicking me out?" Chris tried to smile.

"I need…" Kaito leaned forward into Chris's chest and fell silent. Chris wrapped his free arm around his trembling shoulders and rested his chin on the top of his head as tears trickled from Kaito's eyes.

He understood. He needed it too.


	8. The Seven Barian Emperors

**Chapter Eight: The Seven Barian Emperors**

It was cold, for a spring morning, and raining to boot when a small portal materialized in the Arclight palace gardens and a tall figure emerged from it. Chris Arclight sloshed through the puddles forming on the cobblestones, arms wrapped around his body as he passed tall hedges and bushes full of colorful sleeping flowers. He told himself it was because it was cold and his coat wasn't very good at keeping off the rain.

_I gave them my soul so I could keep my brothers safe, Kaito._

_I'll give them mine if I can keep Haruto safe, Chris._

He stopped in the middle of a large puddle and gazed unseeingly at his distorted reflection in the rippling water, the rain plastering his hair to his face and soaking through his clothing. For the third time that morning, he questioned whether his advice to Kaito was sound advice at all or if he was projecting what _he _wanted onto the Tenjo family. But if Kaito fought the Barians, he would be dead. And Chris couldn't cope with that. Kaito had been in his life for fifteen years. Life without him was unimaginable.

He let out a soft laugh_. _He couldn't afford to have wistful dreams of _what might have been_ or even of what once was.

_I'll give them mine._

He was unable to bring himself to tell Kaito that when he offered his soul to the Barians, they took it in the most literal sense.

Could he even do it? Watch a man he cared about – loved, actually, and how could he not after all these years and all they'd been through – lose himself in a futile effort to save his brother? It was, after all, that or helplessly watch him descend into madness and despair as the Barians used his brother to commit unspeakable horrors.

His hands tightened on his arms and he forced himself to start walking again.

It was Haruto's soul or Kaito's, and Chris knew Kaito better than anyone, probably better than Kaito knew himself, and he squeezed what he told himself was the rain from his eyes as he let himself into the cool marble palace.

"Brother, you're back."

Chris paused and took a quick breath before turning to meet his greeter. "Mihael… you're up early."

Like his brother, Mihael wore a long coat and vest; his coat and vest were white, hemmed in a precise shade of pink that matched his hair, and his undershirt was a matching pink silk with ruffled cuffs and collar. He had taken to wearing his sword as well since the Barians had invaded a year ago, which still unnerved Chris. Mihael had always been the pacifistic one in the family and shouldn't have had to wear a weapon around his own home. His green eyes darted to Chris's feet, where streams of water poured steadily from his clothing in a puddle on the floor and he frowned before looking back up at his brother.

"It's been thundering since early this morning," he said. "It was difficult to sleep." He peered at Chris's face, at his weary, shadowed eyes. "You look exhausted, Brother. Was it storming in Tenjo this morning as well?"

The thunder had been the least of his problems. Kaito kept waking up – whimpering, sobbing, kicking, grabbing at Chris's nightshirt, pleading _not Haruto, please, not Haruto _– and each time Chris would wrap his arms around him and whisper empty words of comfort until Kaito slumped in his arms and lay still and silent before falling asleep again and the next bout of nightmares began.

"Yes."

He walked past his brother, past the towering windows that the rain now spattered with more force than it had a few minutes ago, and began the familiar walk back to his quarters. Mihael followed, hands clasped behind his back.

"Lord Durbe mentioned that you stayed behind at Tenjo but he didn't say anything about the conversation that took place. Did it not go well?"

Chris glanced back at his brother. "When did you see Durbe?"

Mihael avoided Chris's eyes. "Last night. He and General Mizael seemed… troubled by something. They were arguing when I reached the entrance hall to greet them, since I assumed you would be returning the same way."

_Arguing? _"What were they arguing about?"

"I don't know. They stopped as soon as they saw me, and Lord Durbe did his 'we'll talk later' motion to General Mizael."

Chris stopped in front of his bedroom door and placed a hand on the doorknob. He wanted to bathe and change out of his wet clothing, perhaps read or take a nap after, but something was wrong.

"Where are they now?"

"I-I think they returned to Baria for some reason." Something was definitely wrong with Mihael; he shifted his weight and wouldn't look at Chris. His hands remained clasped behind his back.

"You _think_?" His voice came out much sharper than he intended.

Mihael glanced down the richly carpeted hallway and began shuffling his feet away from Chris's door. "You seem agitated, Brother. I think I'll leave you to calm down."

He took about three steps before Chris grabbed him by the elbow. "Mihael, look at me."

"Brother-" Mihael tried to tug away, but Chris pulled him back.

He felt it, and knew.

"Mihael, what did you do?"

"I don't-"

Chris grabbed Mihael's other arm and pulled up the sleeve. A gold band, inlaid with a brilliant pink gem, wrapped around his wrist. With a frantically beating heart, he held the arm with a shaking hand and forced himself to take steady breaths to keep from screaming.

"What else did Durbe say to you last night?" he whispered. His voice quivered. Not his brother, not _Mihael-_

"It wasn't Durbe." Mihael's voice was barely stronger than Chris's. "It was… Father."

* * *

Red storm clouds swirled above the glittering palace carved from red corundum crystals, high in the eastern mountains, spitting rain that sizzled as it touched the crystals. It wasn't an uncommon sight.

But it was getting too common for Durbe's comfort.

He climbed onto the window sill and held out his hand, sighing as the rain evaporated on his fingers. In his human form, it probably would have done nothing, but his Barian skin was composed differently. As the rain touched him, it left small red marks. He had researched the phenomenon carefully over the past decade, curious as to why it happened only in the Barian Kingdom. He was sure it had to do with the volcanoes that were near Baria. The chemical composition of volcanic deposits was too similar to the rain to be a coincidence.

"What would happen if someone came up behind you and gave you a small push?"

Durbe retracted his hand and pulled himself back into the palace corridor. "What kind of bodyguard would you be if you let that happen to me?" He tugged the sleeves of his robes back over his arms.

Mizael snorted softly and crossed his arms. "Act more like a lord and less like a child, Durbe. It isn't as though it doesn't rain acid every week these days."

"Are you still angry with me?"

"I'm disappointed that you believe this prophetic nonsense about the _city in the mountains drenched in blood_ or whatever it was."

"There are no other major cities built into the mountains, Mizael. Prince Astral had similar dreams that did come to pass."

"Only because we _made_ them come to pass." He followed Durbe down the cavernous hallway. "At any rate, will you tell me now why we're here? Don't you have other things to be doing that are more important than listening to these self-important-" He cut off as Durbe cleared his throat, and not a moment too soon. A door to the left opened and a hooded woman in deep green robes stepped through. Her pointed face peered from under the hood, a jagged green mark running under her right eye.

"Durbe," she said in a throaty voice. "And…" Her eyes, a shade of dark green to match her robes, lingered on Mizael, who gazed stonily back. "General."

"Polara." Durbe gave her a slight bow.

"My lady." Mizael's bow was considerably stiffer.

"Unbending as always," she said indifferently. She turned to Durbe. "Shall we?"

"Of course."

"Not you," she added, glancing at Mizael, who had taken a step forward as if to follow. "This is a meeting between the lords, which suffice to say, you are not."

Mizael's hands clenched and Durbe chose that moment to intervene. "Mizael, thank you for escorting me. You may wait here for me, if you wish, or if you have _other_ things to do, like read a book, you are welcome to do them." He held his breath and willed Mizael to stay calm and understand what he wanted him to do. To his relief, Mizael nodded and strode away without another word, long yellow skirt rustling as he went.

"Twelve years as a lord and you have yet to exercise control over him," Polara said as he rounded the corner.

"Mizael is very loyal to me, and generally does as I ask without question. He just distrusts a great many people."

"So I noticed." She began walking, tugging her hood down as they went. She pulled her long, dark brown braid from under her robes and let it swish behind her as they began the ascent up the tight staircase to the topmost tower.

"Will Vector be here?" Durbe asked.

"Not to my knowledge. He claims he is too busy."

"He's been issuing ridiculous orders and sitting around doing nothing." Durbe had to force himself to keep his tone civil. "Not to mention how he treats _my_ generals. He needs to be reprimanded."

"Duly noted. After you."

Polara held open the door and Durbe crossed through it into the circular, topmost tower of the Barian Palace. Four figures sat in a circle around the perimeter of the room, faces lit by the dimly glowing Baria crystals floating around the walls. Durbe took his appointed seat between a still-vacant chair and a woman with a heart-shaped mark on her thin face, framed by short golden curls. She sat daintily; posture straight and legs crossed, and wore a set of pink robes over a low-cut, shimmering white dress with a pink sash.

"You're late." She gave him a patronizing side-glance, blue eyes boring into his face.

"My pardons, Ilya."

"Never mind that." The man to Ilya's right spoke in a gravelly voice that contrasted with Ilya's breathy, high voice. His thick robes were a deep blue, and his round, rather squashed-looking face had a matching mark cutting horizontally across the bridge of his nose. His thin hair was white. "We can get started now."

"Aren't we waiting on Vector, Koche?" The man across the room tapped a slender finger on the side of his chair. His robes matched Koche's, except red, but the similarity ended there. His oval face, framed by thick red hair, was decisively more masklike than the other lords', with a peculiar layer of skin curving from under his eyes to his temples and protruding up into his hair.

The final figure, a short woman next to Polara, was last to speak. "Vector claims he is… indisposed at present. I propose we begin without him." She wore her black robes over a tight black dress slashed with silver that brushed the floor. Her thick, black hair fell in waves over her shoulders and down her back. Even her skin tone was darker than the others'. "It isn't as though it would be the first time he refused to come to a meeting."

"Has anyone been to Astral to see him since the overthrow?" The red-haired lord crossed his arms.

"I have," Durbe said. "As I was telling Polara on the way here, he has taken to punishing my generals. It took three Healers to soothe the blistering on Gilag's back after Vector all but melted the armor into his skin, and Mizael is going to have a burn scar on his shoulder from now on. He's getting out of control."

"What did Mizael say to prompt Vector into harming him?" the black-robed woman said, unfazed.

Durbe narrowed his eyes and bit back a retort. "Are you saying Vector had the right to attack Mizael?"

"What I'm sure Pherka was saying is that Mizael is known for speaking his mind in remarkably inappropriate situations," the red-haired lord interjected. "It isn't surprising that Vector would have seen fit to sort him out."

"I am the one responsible for Mizael, as I promised I would be when I became a lord," Durbe said, closing his eyes to hide his frustration.

"And a _wonderful_ job you're doing keeping his temper in check."

"That's enough, Alasco," Polara said loudly. "We're not here to discuss General Mizael's behavior. What Vector sees fit to do in his own kingdom is his own business, and as Durbe said himself, he is responsible for Mizael. Let him deal with it. The main issue is, of course, where to proceed now that the Astral Kingdom is under our control."

"I see no reason not to simply invade Tenjo and Heartland straight away," Koche said bluntly. "They're tiny kingdoms. Separately, they will have no chance of withstanding us."

"I disagree." Durbe sat up straighter. He had to play his cards right in this meeting to keep his leverage over the Tenjo Kingdom. He'd worked too hard to give it up now. "That is, I disagree with invading them the way we invaded the other two kingdoms. I had dinner with the Tenjo family last night."

This caught the other lords' attention, as he'd expected it would.

"You _what_?" Ilya clenched the sides of her chair.

"Without consulting us?" Alasco demanded. "We have rules in place for a reason, Durbe."

Durbe refrained from sighing with difficulty. "I was a guest. Lord Christopher Arclight invited me along. I broke no rules." This was stretching the truth to a limit; he had, of course, been the one to initiate the dinner, bringing Chris along only to avoid this very issue. But he hadn't signed any treaties. He had been very careful not to overstep his limited autonomy.

Polara held out a hand, though Alasco still looked furious. "Very well. What is your objection to invading the kingdom?"

"Because they're scared." This was the truth as Durbe saw it. The way Kaito had tensed and argued and tried vainly to comfort his brother proved it. "They don't want their family to be torn apart the way the others were." This was it; it was sink or swim now. "I believe that allowing them to maintain their autonomy in exchange for their loyalty will allow for a seamless transition of power. With every other kingdom under our command, Heartland will have no choice but to join us. We can do it with no further bloodshed, human or Barian."

He held his breath as the other lords contemplated his words. If this worked, he would be able to petition the other lords for the privilege of directing events at Tenjo.

Surprisingly, it was Koche who spoke first. "I see no reason not to try. If we are successful, a bloodless transition would most certainly be preferable to a repeat of Astral or Arclight."

"Agreed," Ilya said. "However, who is to assume responsibility for Tenjo?"

"I will." Durbe winced slightly; he had spoken a little too quickly, too eagerly.

"Oh?" Alasco raised an eyebrow. "Why you? You're already busy with Arclight."

"Because I have the Arclight family's loyalty. If any person on this earth can convince Lord Kaito of the wisdom of a bloodless compromise, it is Lord Christopher. The kingdoms are interconnected. I have the hand of one. I can use that hand to reach for another."

Slowly, one by one, the other lords nodded, except Alasco, who watched Durbe with narrowed eyes. Durbe wondered if Alasco suspected that he had other reasons to control Tenjo. He was suddenly glad Vector was "indisposed" and couldn't make it to the meeting. If anyone could have ruined him today, it would have been Vector.

"You have your permission to enter into diplomatic talks with the Tenjo family," Polara informed him. "Report back in a month and let us know how it goes so we can decide what paths to take next."

Durbe nodded. "I thank the council for its blessing."

Koche waved his hand, drawing a flat stone to the middle of the room. A map of the kingdoms appeared on it. "Now that that's over with, we have to decide what to do about the refugees from the Astral Kingdom. We can't very well let Prince Astral run around with the last two Dragoons and Kazuma Tsukumo's son. Are we any closer to catching them?"

Durbe pointed at the river near the Astral Palace. "Gilag encountered the twins here, at the Revise Bridge."

Ilya leaned forward. Her eyebrows knotted in confusion. "Just the twins?"

"Yes. Either the prince and Tsukumo – as well as the Healer that Alit encountered in the village – were hiding while the Dragoons dispatched twenty soldiers and nearly Gilag as well, or they split up. Either way, it is safe to assume that they are headed" – he pointed at a small landmark in the mountain – "to the Dragoon Shrine."

Pherka scowled. "If that's the case, we can't touch them there. There's a ten mile radius around that stupid shrine that wards Barians away."

"In which case, we should focus on finding the prince," Ilya said. "No one has had any leads on him?"

"Not yet," Durbe murmured. "But I'm sure something will come up. Either way, if we find the twins, we'll be able to find the prince."

Durbe didn't know _what_ the Kamishiros were planning, or whether they were with the prince. They certainly wouldn't have abandoned him. But if they were at the Dragoon Shrine, then none of the Barians could touch them.

But a _human_ could.

"I believe I will take my leave," Durbe announced, climbing to his feet. "I need to prepare for my meeting with the Tenjo family. Good day."

He left without another word, ignoring the stunned faces watching him go.


	9. Diversions

**Chapter Nine: Diversions**

"Ryoga, can we _please_ stop? We've been roaming through this forest all night and I have to… _go_."

"There's still time before sunrise. You can wait."

Rio let out a heavy sigh and stuck her tongue out at him behind his back.

Since leaving the carnage at the Revise River, they hadn't stopped moving through the forest toward the mountains. Ryoga wouldn't even stop for food, which was a constant point of complaint from his sister, who insisted that they were going to be too weak to fight on empty stomachs. She was right, of course, but Ryoga just wanted to put as much space as possible between them and the Barians who would inevitably be hot on their trail. And if his calculations were correct, they were about fifteen miles from the Dragoon Shrine. If they could make it five miles, they could rest comfortably thanks to the warding around it.

They barely made it one before Rio had enough.

"Ryoga," she whined.

He stopped and threw his hands in the air. "_What_?"

She scowled. "Don't give me your attitude. I have to _go_ and if you're so worried about getting there _right now_ just go ahead of me and I'll catch up in like two minutes."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Fine."

She muttered something unintelligible as she hurried through the trees for a secluded spot, disappearing in the tree clusters. He leaned against a nearby birch and took the opportunity to reach into his bag and pull out a small chunk of bread. Gods, but was he tired, and the wounds on his leg and stomach were beginning to throb again. Kotori would be furious if she knew he hadn't put any ointment on it since… was that only twelve hours ago? It seemed like an eternity had passed since they had split up... He could make it a few more miles though, and prayed the wounds wouldn't open up again before he had a chance to reapply the ointment. He drained his canteen and frowned.

What was taking Rio so long?

"Hey!" he called back into the trees where she had vanished. "Hurry up!"

No response, not even a snide comment. That was unusual.

Scowling, he strode into the trees, nearly tripping over a root half-hidden under the mud, which only served to make him more annoyed. He poked at the ground with his lance as he walked, and the farther he got, the more confused he was. _Surely_ she didn't wander this far in just to relieve herself…

"Rio?"

The moment her name left his lips, he heard the low voices coming from an adjacent forest path, and they sounded excited, which was probably a result of him alerting them to his presence.

"Shit," he muttered, taking three long strides before he was hidden behind a thick tree. He heard them nearing, close enough for him to make out excited whispers.

"…was right, then, they are here!" one was saying.

He stifled a groan and hit the back of his head against the tree in frustration. Did the Barians deliberately choose the morons to hunt him and his sister? Did they never learn to keep hidden and silent while hunting? With the way he had foolishly given away his position, they should have taken advantage of his vulnerability and surrounded him, but they were all bunched up like new recruits. He could even tell that there were four of them. If this was a reconnaissance party, they probably should have been reassigned to guard duty a long time ago.

They moved closer to his tree, gibbering in voices that were _far_ too loud, and Ryoga carefully shifted his lance point-down as he waited for them to pass close enough that he would be able to take out maybe two of them before they had a chance to react.

A sharp thud on the back of his head almost caused him to slip into a curse, but he gritted his teeth instead and glanced back. He saw the silhouette of his sister perched in a low tree branch about ten feet away, holding a small rock in one hand and her rapier in the other. She mouthed something at him, but it was too dark to tell what she was trying to say, even with the soft light of the rising sun now filtering through the trees. He held out a hand and tried mouthing back.

_What are you saying?_

She set the rock next to her and held up her empty hand, wiggling her fingers. She gestured with her rapier back toward the path she and her brother had left and pointed up.

He shook his head, brows furrowed in bewilderment. _What?_

She repeated the gesture as though he had any idea what she had said the first time, and he made a stabbing motion with his spear and jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the approaching party. It was Rio's turn to shake her head and hold out her hands questioningly.

_I'm going to go kill them now, please cover me. _He poked the ground with his lance point for emphasis.

It was a simple request, he thought, except she didn't seem any more capable of reading his lips as he did hers, and she waved dismissively before darting off the way they had come, directly in their line of sight. He hit the back of his head against the tree again and closed his eyes.

_Damn it, Rio._

"There!"

Two of the Barians started forward after Rio's running outline. They made it as far as Ryoga's tree before he thrust out his lance and caught them both around the ankles, sending one sprawling face-down in the mud and the other headlong into a tree, where he crumpled to the ground, unmoving. Ryoga crushed the heel of his boot into the other Barian's hand as he tried to get up, and held his lance out to the remaining two, no longer defensively.

"I'm sick of running from you bastards," he growled. "I'm going to kill every last one of you."

He stepped forward, thrusting the lance into one Barian's chest…

…and the tip broke on the armor under his cloak.

Ryoga had about three seconds to register that a quartz lance tip snapped like a twig on armor that it should have pierced with ease before the realization that he was now unarmed against two Barians hit him. His would-be victim's eyes crinkled in the eerily horrible mouthless Barian smile before producing a knife and lunging at Ryoga with it.

Ryoga stepped back, drawing a muffled grunt from the injured Barian on the ground as he trampled on his fingers again, and leaned to the side as the knife thrust where his throat should have been. He grabbed the Barian's wrist and pulled him forward, throwing the Barian off-balance, and caught him in the stomach with a thrust of his knee. Before the Barian even hit the ground, the second hurled his own knife at Ryoga, who couldn't move out of the way fast enough before the knife tore easily through his shoulder armor.

He gritted his teeth and glanced at his shoulder; a tiny, shallow scratch was the only mark, but it hurt more than enough. With his other arm, he picked up the useless handle of his lance and swung it like a club, first at his direct attacker, landing a solid blow to the back of the head, and then at the knife-thrower, which caught him in the temple. Both collapsed without a sound, and Ryoga winced as he leaned heavily against the tree. The pain in his shoulder was minimal compared to other wounds he had received from the Barians, but that wasn't the worst of it; his stomach wound had opened again, and he could feel the blood seeping through his shirt.

"Rio!" he yelled, voice echoing through the quiet trees.

"Keep your voice down."

He turned to see his sister half-dragging a struggling Barian through the trees. He was dressed in the light leather armor of an archer, and his eyes were filled with a curious combination of fear and contempt. She threw him to the ground at her brother's feet, an entirely unfazed look in her face, almost as though she were bored, or maybe disappointed. That was fine with Ryoga; he was plenty furious for the both of them.

"Who is this?"

Rio sighed and held up the hand not being used to hold the struggling Barian. "I was trying to say _there are five of them_" –she wiggled her fingers– "and that one of them" –she pointed upward with one finger– "was hiding over there." She pointed toward the path. "But you seem perfectly incapable of understanding simple gestures. Don't thank me for catching him or anything, though."

He scowled. "My lance is useless now. Their armor must be made of some kind of… Baria crystal compound. The tip just snapped off."

Rio furrowed her brows as she looked down at his discarded lance handle, and then at the unconscious Barians lying nearby. "You seemed to do a good enough job regardless."

"I'm bleeding."

Her eyes darted to his stomach, where his black shirt glistened. "We should get that ointment on you, then. But first, I thought we might want to ask this one how they found us." She shook her captive by the back of his shirt, and he let out a low hiss.

"Rio, I'm _bleeding_," Ryoga repeated pointedly. "To death. I'm probably bleeding to death. I say we just kill all of them and get moving as quickly as possible. Once we're within the ward, we'll be safe."

"No ward will save you for long," the Barian whispered. "Everything is going according to plan. All is for the sake of the Barian Empire."

Ryoga reached out and grabbed the Barian by the back of his hood and pulled his head back until they were staring into each other's eyes. There was more fear than contempt in them now.

"The Barian Empire killed my mother," he said quietly. "It killed my friends. It killed my king and queen. It drove me into hiding for no reason other than because I exist. Not because I'm a threat to it. But because I'm one piece of unfinished business, one Dragoon that isn't dead. And you know, I'm going to show the Barian Empire that I _am_ a threat. I will help bring about its downfall. And I will start with _your_ friends. I want you to experience the same fear that filled me when my friends were murdered in front of me. When I held the people I loved as they died. As I watched those who didn't die become consumed with grief and madness that will follow them for the rest of their lives."

He picked up the knife that cut his shoulder and approached the first Barian, forcing himself to fight the intensifying pain in his stomach and shoulder that came with touching a weapon carved from the Baria crystal. He grabbed him by the hair, exposing his neck, and sliced it, feeling the warm blood flow over the knife.

"Ryoga…"

He ignored his sister's quiet plea and approached the second one. The third. The fourth.

He hated himself for wishing deep down that they were conscious so he could feel their terror as he killed them, watch the horror in their eyes as they felt the knife tip slide across their throats before their vision blacked out forever.

The archer's eyes had no more hint of contempt in them. They were entirely filled with fear now; a beautiful kind of fear. He whimpered involuntarily and struggled against Rio's grip as Ryoga grabbed him by the chin. Rio closed her eyes, trembling lips pressed together as her brother thrust the knife into the archer's throat.

There was a sickening bubbling sound and blood poured from the Barian's throat as the life left his terrified eyes. Rio let go, and his body slumped on the ground at Ryoga's feet.

The twins stood in the forest clearing, the rising sun shining weakly through the trees, glistening off the bloody bodies and crimson knife. Ryoga stood in the middle of them and laughed quietly. It was a laugh that chilled Rio to the bone.

"Yuma wouldn't have done it," he whispered, tossing the knife on the ground. It landed point down in the blood-soaked dirt. "He would have let them live. They weren't a threat anymore."

Rio took him hesitantly by the arm. "Let's go, Ryoga. We'll get that wound cleaned up."

He let her lead him, leaning on her slightly. His wound was bothering him more by the minute. "I told him not to let revenge move him to foolishness."

_You either, Ryoga._

"I guess he's a better man than I will ever be."

The Kamishiro twins returned to their forest path and resumed their trek toward the Dragoon Shrine, Rio holding her brother steady as he quivered with each step they took.


	10. Land of Memories

**Chapter Ten: Land of Memories**

Dusk approached as three youths, two girls and a boy, walked through the increasingly sparse forest toward their subset of the village. Each carried a sword at their waist and wore a cloak against the chilly autumn breeze. One poked her slouching, scowling companion and grinned.

"Ryoga, quit sulking and get over it."

He batted her hand away and crossed his arms under the pretense of tightening his cloak. "I'm not sulking."

"Brother, you are _definitely_ sulking. You're even pouting." Rio skipped ahead of him and turned, dancing backward so she could watch her brother glare at her. "Mad that Mara beat you again?"

His face turned crimson. "She got lucky is all."

Mara laughed, a deep, throaty sound that didn't sound like it should come from the stout sixteen-year-old girl. "Lucky? Uh-uh, I don't think so. I kicked your ass fair and square." She threw her arm around his shoulder and gripped him tightly, flipping her fire-red hair out of her blue eyes. "You just suck at swordfighting. I bet you'd be halfway decent with the lance, but probably not as good as me."

"I do not _suck_ at swordfighting," Ryoga protested, trying to pull away. Her grip tightened and he gave up. "Elder Yasuo told me I was an extremely talented fighter and that I would be a great warrior one day."

"Yeah, one day," Rio teased. "Like ten years from now, maybe." She and Mara giggled and Ryoga rolled his eyes. He wished the other boys his age would hang out with him, but for some reason they avoided talking to him. His sister called it an abrasive personality, but it still hurt that no one wanted to make the effort to befriend him. Instead, he was stuck with Rio and her best friend, who, apart from being two years older than them, happened to be the cockiest girl he had ever met.

They entered the clearing, still bickering. A dozen small huts lined the edge of the red and gold treeline, with a communal garden plot in the middle of it next to a water pump, full of pumpkins, squash, beans, and corn. Each hut was built exactly the same; all made with cedar, all the same size, with the same number of windows.

It was the same as always, but something felt… off.

He glanced at Rio, who had stopped in her tracks, all laughter on her face suddenly gone. Her eyes were narrowed at the treetops, hands holding her cloak close.

Mara was unfazed, or perhaps didn't notice the strange feeling hovering over their village. "You two look like you've seen a Barian."

Rio shushed her and headed to the nearest house. She banged on the door. "Master Kunio…?"

There was no response. She went to the next hut and found the same thing. The third hut was their home, and she needed only open the door and call for their mother to realize that no one was home. Two doors down, Mara found the same about her own. Rio turned to Ryoga. "Was there a village meeting today?"

Ryoga frowned and furrowed his brow in thought. "I don't think so. Maybe an emergency?"

"What kind of emergency, though?" Mara rejoined them. "There hasn't been an emergency meeting that I can recall in the past ten years."

"Should we check the other clearings?" Ryoga suggested. "If there's no one there, we should head to the village square."

The girls nodded, though Rio held her cloak tighter to her body than she had before. Ryoga gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile but she bit her lip.

"I have… a bad feeling," she murmured. Her face was scrunched up as she stared at the trees. "A really bad feeling." Ryoga exchanged a worried look with Mara before following his sister through the trees.

The feeling of unease intensified with each step closer to the village square. Even Mara seemed to sense something was amiss; she shivered visibly and placed her hand on her sword. They saw no sign of another person in the forest, which was unusual for the early evening.

A scream pierced the eerie silence, and suddenly the air was filled with screams.

The three teenagers froze. The sounds were coming from the village square – wordless shrieks, furious bellows, cries of pain, thundering footsteps through the trees-

The smell of burning cedar, the billows of smoke rising from the village, a horribly unfamiliar stench blowing through the trees, something that reminded him vaguely of rotting meat being cooked-

"We need to go." Mara tugged on Ryoga's arm. He looked back at her stark-white face and wide eyes and nodded, reaching for Rio, who stood rooted to the spot.

"Rio, let's-"

An arrow whistled by and thudded into the tree directly behind Mara. She let out a cry of pain and clutched her face, blood seeping through her fingers.

"Mara!" Ryoga turned, confused, scared; where did that arrow come from? What was _happening, _why were people screaming, why was the village square burning, where _was_ everyone-

Mara whimpered and clutched his shoulder with one hand, the other trying to stifle the blood pouring from a gash on her cheek. "It hurts, it _hurts_, oh _gods_, it's like lightning-"

Rio suddenly shoved them out of the way, and not a moment too soon; another arrow thudded into the soft bark of a sycamore, directly behind where they had been standing. Ryoga heard a _tsk_ from the trees and looked around wildly through the trees, eyes falling for the first time on a Barian.

It was more horrifying than anything he had ever read about, any of the pictures he had ever seen in his studies. Its skin was a sickening shade of lilac, its narrowed eyes a matching shade. Its mouthless face twisted into a horrible expression of satisfaction as it raised its bow and aimed at the three children huddled together on the ground.

For a moment, Ryoga locked eyes with the creature. He couldn't understand; there were wards against the Barians around the village.

"How-" he began, but the Barian's eyes widened in shock, grip on its bow loosening, before it hunched over and fell from its low perch on the tree. A fair-skinned woman in a bloodstained white blouse took its place, breathing heavily, with silvery hair falling loosely over her face as the sword in her hand slacked.

"Rio, Ryoga-"

The woman stepped over the Barian's body and ran toward the youths, pulling all three together in a tight embrace. Her face tightened as she gazed at their terrified faces, Mara's tears mingling with the blood on her face. Rio let out a sob and the woman stroked her hair.

"Shh. Thank the gods you're alive." Tears slid from her own eyes. "I need you to be strong for me, Rio. You and Mara and Ryoga need to run, as far as you can. Don't look back."

"Mother-"

She placed a finger on Ryoga's lips. "No." Her voice took on a sense of urgency as the incoherent yelling became louder. "You need to leave. The Barians are slaughtering everyone in the village square and they're going to be heading this way."

"But-"

"No. Go, and don't look back." She stood, pulling her children and Mara with her, and gave them a small push. "To the Astral Kingdom. You'll be safe there." She turned her back and headed back, toward the screaming, toward the smoke.

It was Ryoga's turn to be rooted to the spot. He was young, but he knew what was going to happen to his mother if they left. He reached out to her but Mara grabbed him with a blood-soaked hand and yanked him along; Rio stumbled along next to them, shuffling feet getting tangled in the red and gold leaves littering the forest floor.

He looked back through tear-filled eyes through the forest, where he saw a robed figure seated atop a white stallion facing his mother. She lowered her sword and said something to him. He raised a hand.

Ryoga couldn't see more than the cloak of the Barian that grabbed his mother from behind and slit her throat. She collapsed like a marionette, her blood staining the colorful foliage on the ground; all he felt was Mara's shaking hand as she grabbed him desperately and pulled him back, trying to run, and all he heard were his sister's anguished cries blending with his own screaming.

* * *

His eyes snapped open.

There was no autumn foliage above him now. There were towering spruce trees. The cloudy blue sky through them indicated midmorning, almost noon, not dusk, and there was no smoke filling it, no screams and cries of agony reverberating in the air.

Rio held him as he struggled to sit up, and he clutched her back, forcing his breaths to slow. Her left hand stroked his hair, her right, his waist. The blood that had seeped through his clothes was dry now, and he felt the fresh bandages wrapped around his torso.

"Again?" Rio whispered.

He held a quaking hand to his face. "It was so vivid this time." He could still imagine the stench of burning bodies in his nostrils. He hadn't known the smell then, as a fourteen year old boy, but he had experienced enough in the years since. "Everything… was so vivid."

He wanted her to smile at him, tell him it was just a dream, but he knew she couldn't because they had lived through the same thing. It wasn't just a dream. It was a memory that they shared, a memory that had shaped their lives.

For ten years he had tried to forget the dream, to force himself to think of other things, but it came back to him all the time, where he would wake up in a cold sweat, crying, screaming, shaking. Other nights, he would find himself in a deep underwater cavern, face to face with a shadowed monster that watched him with red eyes.

He wondered what it would be like to have a normal dream. What did normal people dream about, anyway?

"We have to get moving," he muttered, letting her help him up. He felt sick; his head was spinning and his stomach churned. "Where are we?"

Rio's face was pale and sweaty. She looked about like he felt. "We're inside the ward. You passed out about a mile back so I had to drag you along."

Any other time, she would have made a snide comment about how _useless you are_, but he thanked her inwardly for remaining silent. "We shouldn't have to worry about them, then. None followed us?"

She shook her head and took him by the arm. He could feel her hands shaking too.

"We're almost there, then." He was exhausted. They had been fleeing for nearly eighteen hours. He had hardly eaten. It was no wonder he felt sick.

But, he realized as they set off again, resting would send him back into the clutches of his never-ending nightmares, and he wasn't sure he preferred that.

* * *

The rain at the palace in Baria continued for three days.

Mizael sat propped up by pillows on his bed, idly perusing a thick leather-bound book by the light of an oil lantern on his bedside table. He had read the entire book three times as he waited for Durbe to return from wherever he was; he looked generally satisfied by the outcome of his meeting with the other lords, but he said very little to Mizael about it before leaving.

_I need to return to Arclight. Please stay here and keep an eye on the others. Especially Alasco. He knows I'm up to something._

He hated not being kept in the loop, especially since Durbe always kept him by his side. None of the other lords seemed to be plotting anything as far as Mizael had been able to tell; Alasco spent his time in the music lounge playing the piano, or else at the indoor stables practicing his equestrianism. None of the other lords, for that matter, seemed particularly interested in doing anything other than entertaining themselves. He had occasionally come across Polara writing short letters, and one time Ilya, but the rest of their time seemed devoted to self-gratification.

Unfortunately, he couldn't keep an eye on any of them for very long, since they not only would get suspicious but also because none of them liked him – which was understandable, as he fairly openly didn't like them either – so it was impossible to know what they were doing during the times he was not around.

A soft knock preceded the door opening, and only one person would invite himself into Mizael's private chambers unannounced. Durbe pulled off his cloak as he closed the door behind him, shoulders slouched and eyes shadowed. Mizael was nonetheless glad to see he had remained in his Barian form for his return to Baria; the other lords openly ridiculed his habit of using his human body too much. He dragged the chair from the small desk by the lone window next to the bed and lowered himself in it before glancing around the room.

"I forgot how small your quarters here were."

Mizael looked back at the book. "It doesn't matter."

He truthfully hated being in Baria. His room was cramped, with a rather small bed, a desk, and a wardrobe barely large enough to fit the formalwear that Durbe insisted he have. He never considered the palace his home, even after living there for nearly nine years, and it had nothing to do with the size of his quarters and everything to do with the people in it.

Durbe lowered his eyes and folded his cloak over his arms. "I'm sorry I left you alone for three days. I know you hate it here."

Mizael contemplated repeating that it didn't matter, but he couldn't bring himself to lie to Durbe so he remained silent on that matter. He set the book down on his lap. "Are you going to tell me where you've been?"

"Yes." Durbe looked up again and met Mizael's eyes. He looked forlorn up close, as though he hadn't gotten any sleep in that time. Probably not; he was doing a poor job taking care of his body lately. "I was in Arclight. I went initially to speak with Lord Christopher about possibly helping to persuade Lord Kaito to let us bring Lord Haruto to Arclight. But we had… a dispute."

Mizael closed his eyes. He didn't need to ask. Chris had found out about Mihael and Thomas. "What did he do?"

Durbe shifted in the chair and sighed. "Threatened to kill me at least three times, threw a chair across the room, and sat against the wall with his head in his hands for the rest of the time. I've never seen him angry before, so it was quite the experience."

Mizael's eyes snapped open again at the first part of Durbe's sentence. "He threatened you? Why didn't you let me come with? How am I supposed to be an effective bodyguard if you refuse to let me keep you safe?"

"I am perfectly capable of defending myself," Durbe said sharply, ignoring Mizael's tightened grip on the book. "That doesn't matter. The point is he refused flat-out to convince Lord Kaito about Lord Haruto." He narrowed his eyes at his cloak. "So we're going to have to resort to… persuasion."

Mizael snorted softly. _Persuasion _was the reason Lord Byron was the way he was now. The last thing they needed was a repeat with Kaito Tenjo. It would shatter Chris. "I'm still at a loss as to why you allowed Lord Byron to talk you into doing it in the first place. It was stupid and unnecessary."

"I'm not the king." Durbe's tone was clipped. "I am a powerful Barian lord but I am not more powerful than the king." He shook his head. "It's too late to do anything about it now. We'll just have to adjust. In the meantime, I've had it from the Healer that you've refused treatment for your burn for the past week." He reached into a pocket of his robes and pulled out a roll of cloth bandages.

"I'm fine." Mizael eyed the bandages disdainfully.

"Mizael, I am going to administer to your burn whether you want it or not. Remove your vest."

Mizael made an indignant sound and raised an eyebrow at Durbe. "Oh? Or?"

Durbe closed his eyes and let out a low breath. "You swore your loyalty to me, to do as I say. Left untreated, your injury is going to hinder your effectiveness. Remove your vest."

They stared at one another before Mizael _tsked_ and slid to the edge of the bed, fingers reluctantly untying the laces on his vest. "You sound as though I've become dispensable." He gingerly peeled the light undershirt from his body, exposing the wicked burn.

"Don't be ridiculous; you're very important to my plans." Durbe unrolled the cloth and poured the half-empty glass of water from the table on it. Water dripped on the floor as Durbe held it out. "This is miraculously not as terrible as Gilag's burn. Elevate your arm for me."

The burn was much worse than it probably should have been; in his reluctance to treat it, the blisters throbbed painfully and two had torn open. Durbe began wrapping the cloth around it. The cool water was soothing, but the cloth rubbing the raw skin was excruciating. Vector's fire magic wreaked havoc on his thick Barian skin; he didn't like to think about how it would have felt on the soft flesh of his human form.

"I'm only important to your plans?" It was meant to be a feeble attempt at wry humor but Durbe glanced up, eyebrows drawing together sternly.

"That's not what I meant." Mizael flinched as Durbe looped the cloth across his chest for support, fingers grazing the tip of the gem resting there. Even the brief contact alerted Mizael to an overwhelming feeling of unease from Durbe, who didn't seem to notice what he had done.

"That's what it sounded like." Mizael managed to keep his tone flat.

"We've been over this," Durbe said finally, tying off the cloth and leaning back. "You're the only one I can trust with my endgame. The _only_ one. If you can't fulfill your duty to me, if you're too injured or become physically handicapped, it's that much harder for me to accomplish what I need to accomplish."

"Durbe-"

Durbe held up a hand and shook his head. "No, we're done with this conversation." He pointed at the book Mizael had discarded. "Alit said that book was found in Captain Kamishiro's quarters at Astral. Have you found anything useful?"

Mizael didn't want to abandon the conversation but when Durbe used that tone, he knew it was time to stop. "Not really. Captain Kamishiro is remarkably averse to sharing his inner thoughts on a great many things. The exception is the very beginning, after he became Captain-Commander. He recorded the entire story Lieutenant Tsukumo told him about the fall of the Arclight Kingdom last year. He does have some interesting thoughts on the matter."

Durbe nodded distractedly and finally stood. "I'll look over it this week, then. We leave in the morning. We are _not _leaving until you've had that properly cleaned and wrapped by the Healer. Good night, Mizael."

Mizael waited until he was gone to snuff out the lamp and lean on the pillows, listening to the soft patter of rain on his window. He couldn't shake the feeling that Durbe was keeping something from him, and that hurt worse than the burn.


	11. Garden of the Gods

**Chapter Eleven: Garden of the Gods**

Cathy proved to be incredibly adept at finding both food and shelter during the trek down the mountain. The rain that started up around midday made the terrain muddy and slippery; she knew a small cave that the tired group gratefully took refuge in. Even better – to Astral, at least – was the fact that they could finally light a fire and get warm. He was exhausted. While the summoning did wonders for gaining Cathy's trust, it sapped him of the little energy he had left, and an irate Yuma had to support him as they made their way down. When they reached the cave, he fell asleep almost immediately, and for a wonder, he had no dreams.

When he did finally wake, he found Yuma sitting on the opposite side of the cave. He held a sheaf of yellowing papers and was writing on them with intense concentration. Astral didn't want to interrupt, but he felt a stab of curiosity.

"What are you writing?"

Yuma paused in mid-stroke and looked up. "I'm writing our experiences. Captain Kamishiro always stressed the importance of keeping a journal."

"I see." Astral frowned. "Where are Kotori and Cathy?"

Yuma gestured vaguely southward with his free hand. "There's a village a few miles away at the base of the mountain. It's a trading post of sorts; I've been there a couple of times. Kotori needed some herbs, so Cathy went with her."

"Why didn't they wait until we all headed that way together rather than make two journeys that way?"

"She said she needed them for you," Yuma said in a clipped tone. "Since you were unconscious for nearly seven hours before she left."

_What_? "How long have I been out?"

"About fifteen hours." Yuma set the paper aside and crossed his arms. Astral sighed inwardly, knowing exactly what was coming next.

"You wouldn't have been out for over half a day if you hadn't been careless. I absolutely-"

"-forbid me from doing it again?" Astral lifted an eyebrow. Yuma's mouth tightened. "I am not a child. And you are my bodyguard. I am not obligated to take commands from you."

"As your bodyguard, I will not half-carry you down a mountain because you can barely stand after summoning. Which is what _always happens_ and it was entirely unnecessary."

"_Gods_, would you two stop _arguing_?" Kotori and Cathy had arrived and were both staring at them; Cathy with a curious tilt of the head, and Kotori with a frown and narrowed eyes as she tossed a small bag aside with such force that Astral wondered if the vials inside would remain intact..

Yuma mumbled a stiff apology and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. "What took you?"

Kotori slumped against the wall next to Yuma and crossed her arms. Cathy took up a spot next to Astral. Neither woman looked at the other.

"_Cathy_ decided to draw attention to us rather than keep our hoods up and our heads down, and ended up getting me involved in a petty dispute that evolved into a tavern brawl." Each word Kotori spoke dripped with more venom than the last, but if she was expecting disapproval from the lieutenant, she would be sorely disappointed.

"_What_?" Yuma managed through his laughter.

"It's not funny, Yuma!" Kotori threw an empty salve vial at his head. It missed by inches and shattered against the wall instead. "She got in a fight with armed mercenaries!"

"What were you even doing in a tavern?" Astral couldn't imagine a place Kotori was less likely to step foot in than a tavern.

"That's not important!" she snapped. "What _is_ important is that Cathy threatened to kill a man and feed him to the wolves, and then they had at it until I had to intervene!"

"No one asked you to butt in," Cathy snarled, nails digging into her palms. "He was killing my friends and trading their bodies. He deserves death."

"Hey, that's enough!" Yuma pulled himself to his feet and held out his hands. "Cathy, I understand you're angry but we are being hunted too, and need to keep out of sight."

Cathy snorted and crossed her arms. "I only came with because I wanted to find who killed my family. _I'm_ not the one who's scared of the bears."

Yuma took a deep breath, but Astral interrupted him. "That is understandable, Lady Cathy." He ignored Kotori's indignant _Lady_ and gave Cathy a gentle smile. "We do need to be careful, however. We will never find who killed your family if we attract too much attention."

Her brows furrowed and she watched the small fire flicker. "I get it," she said finally. "Sorry." The word sounded unfamiliar coming from her.

Astral gently patted her shoulder, and she tensed. He realized too late that she probably hadn't had any human contact in so long that it was an unwelcome feeling. He frowned a little before turning to Kotori. "Lady Kotori, Yuma said you went to get herbs for me…?"

She slid her eyes from their fixed glare on the cave opening toward Astral. "Yes." She leaned over and grabbed the small bag she had thrown aside. "Though why you need those particular things is beyond me. It was very difficult to acquire them."

Yuma narrowed his eyes but said nothing. Astral was glad for this; his relationship with Yuma was already strained and he didn't feel like explaining that he had asked Kotori during their trip up the mountain to get him some herbs.

But he had to explain what he intended to do with them now.

"I need to commune with the Astral World," he said softly, taking a small bowl and cup from his knapsack. He poured water into the cup and set it near the fire before turning back to the herbs. It was a simple ritual, but with a complicated list of ingredients; cinnamon could only be found in the islands south of the Tenjo Kingdom, and juniper berries grew only on the trees in the northern mountains near the remains of the Dragoon Village. He crushed the cinnamon sticks and berries before adding mesquite and myrrh – both found only in the arid, rocky Sargasso Waste. He hadn't expected that Kotori would be able to find any of these things in a remote trading post near the mountains, but he supposed he could attribute that to a blessing from the gods.

His three companions watched silently as he placed a handful of the remaining juniper berries in the cup. He took a drink of the lukewarm tea and winced at the intensity. He had once coerced a manservant into getting him a small glass of gin; he liked the taste of juniper tea but adding too many berries reminded him too much of the strong, burning gin, which he had not enjoyed.

It helped him sleep, and that's what he needed to do.

He held a small, uncrushed mesquite twig over the fire to light it, and used it to burn the incense.

"I don't know how long I'll be out," he whispered. "With luck, it will not be too long."

"Be careful," Yuma murmured.

Astral's lips twitched as he closed his eyes and began the long, silent prayer, breathing in the cacophony of smells; the sweet cinnamon, the woody myrrh, the nutty mesquite, and the piney juniper. His head became light, his breathing shallow, and he felt the distant sensation of falling…

* * *

A lone flame flickered on the candle sitting on the nightstand, filling the room with the sweet aroma of caramel toffee. It was a soothing smell. A calming smell. When they were young, Kaito would light one for Haruto to help him sleep. As he got older, the familiar scent helped Kaito sleep, too.

But he slept very little this night, and from the warm, uncharacteristically heavy breaths on the back of his neck, he knew Chris wasn't sleeping either. His arm was draped over Kaito's waist, hand linked loosely with one of Kaito's, and his chest pressed against Kaito's back. Kaito shifted, pulling Chris's arm closer to his body. Chris's face pressed into the nape of his neck and he kissed it gently.

Neither wanted to move, because both knew this would probably be the last time they could lay like this, the last time they could try to forget that the lives they had carefully built together were falling to pieces around them.

_I gave them my soul to protect my brothers._

_But they took my brothers' souls anyway._

"Chris." Kaito's voice was barely a whisper. "I don't have a choice."

Chris's hand tightened in Kaito's. He leaned his head close to Kaito's ear. "I've told you everything they've done to my family, Kaito. Please don't let them do the same to yours."

Kaito pulled his hand away as he sat up and looked down at him. Chris's hair splayed all over his body, over his pillow, even off the side of the bed; at his blue eyes, full of something Kaito couldn't quite place, something unfamiliar on his former mentor, best friend, confidante.

"You told me to give in to them," Kaito said in a low voice. "You told me to do the cowardly thing and kneel. I'm doing just that and now barely a week later, you're telling me I should fight them. Which is it, Chris?"

Chris brought himself to a sitting position and grabbed Kaito's wrist. Kaito's jaw clenched and he tried to pull away, but Chris's grip was too tight. "If you give them your soul, they'll take Haruto anyway. Please, Kaito."

Fear; that was the look in his eyes, and his voice was full of distress. For a fleeting, tempting moment, Kaito wanted to kiss him again, to smile against his mouth, to let Chris's hands explore his body. For a fleeting, tempting moment, he wanted to throw himself into his lover's arms and pretend that it was ten years ago when they began their unsanctioned and secret affair.

Instead, he placed his other hand on Chris's own wrist. "If I become stronger, I can keep my brother safe. My father agrees."

Chris's hand slackened and Kaito pulled free, untangling his legs from the sheets. He paused at the end of the bed, staring at the little toffee candle burning to a nub. His father had never found out about him and Chris. He thought perhaps Haruto knew, or maybe suspected, based on the small, knowing smiles on his face when he saw Chris and Kaito together.

It had been almost like a game, in a way; the two eldest brothers of the two kingdoms sneaking around, locking themselves in forgotten rooms in forgotten corridors, laughing when they almost got caught by a stray, nosy maid. It had been like a game because the two male heirs to their respective kingdoms shouldn't be lovers, shouldn't reject marriage despite all customs telling them otherwise because that would mean their relationship would have to end.

What children they had been.

Kaito stood up and covered himself with the robe he always kept near his bed when Chris was with him. He felt Chris's gaze on him as he walked to the door to his bath chamber. "Get yourself cleaned up." It was an unnecessary reminder. The door closed.

Chris let out a shaky breath and reached for his own robe. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tied the robe so tightly that it hurt his ribs. He had wanted to save Kaito from committing the same sin he had. He told Kaito that his brothers had been stripped and tied down as the Barians ripped out their souls and put them in the little gems now set in fancy gold bracelets. He picked up his own blue gemmed bracelet and turned it around in his hands. He didn't want Kaito to end up like him. He felt the tears flow again, something that shamed him. He had spent most of the past two weeks with tears running down his face. He had barricaded himself in his quarters crying after confronting Durbe, he had cried while making love to Kaito. That was all right; Kaito had cried too. It seemed they had both realized that this was the last time they could be together. A selfish part of him – a part of himself that he hated – was almost relieved, in a way.

_At least we'll be together in hell_.

* * *

He knew it worked before his eyes were even fully open. The sky was the clearest blue he had ever seen, made more radiant by the towering snow-capped peaks of a blinding white. He sat up and noticed that he was no longer wearing his dark cloak; instead, he was robed in a translucent blue cloth embedded in green emeralds. He had been here once before when he was a youth, with his parents, and the reason behind it was to figure out how to control his powers.

He could control them now, but he needed to know how to maximize their effect. He couldn't go on passing out every time he summoned Hope.

Pulling himself to his feet, he glanced around. He was at the base of the mountains, next to a crystalline lake that perfectly reflected the peaks. A forest loomed a short way off. It seemed as good a place as any to begin. It had been nearly fourteen years since he had entered the Astral World that he couldn't remember how long he and his parents wandered around before finding someone to help. He wasn't even sure they had been at this particular place; he seemed to remember an ocean, not a lake.

He walked for what felt to his body like fifteen or twenty minutes, entering the forest, where a small stream meandered through the towering trees, small golden fish lazily drifting through. He stopped to watch them for a minute, breathing in a different scent, one of cool mountain air mixed with a curious fruity smell, despite there being no fruit trees that he could see. It was so peaceful here.

"It has been many years, Prince Astral."

Astral jumped; he had been so engrossed in the fish that he had forgotten why he was here. He turned and faced a lean figure of no discernible age or gender wearing matching blue robes. Their mid-length hair had an almost ethereal glow to it, so Astral couldn't tell if it was white, or blue, or perhaps a white-blond. Their eyes were both so pale they appeared almost colorless, and reminded Astral forcibly of his own pale eye.

"Our Lord Eliphas sent me to greet you," the figure continued. Astral could detect no gender in the voice either, and could only assume this particular Astralite had none. "I am Rabelais."

Astral nodded and glanced at the mountains again. "Is this… the Astral World, then?"

Rabelais placed a hand to their lips and followed Astral's gaze. "This is but one plane. A low plane. A garden, if you will."

It was certainly a unique garden, Astral thought. "I have come to-"

"-seek our guidance," Rabelais cut in smoothly. "Of course. As you did in your younger years, you wish to understand your powers."

"I wish to control them without draining my energy in the process."

Rabelais arched a narrow eyebrow and gestured Astral to follow them. "Come with me, Astral. I wish you to see something that may help."

Astral frowned at their back but followed closely. He didn't speak. They walked through the forest together, the trees becoming taller and closer together, obscuring the azure sky with emerald leaves.

Suddenly, the forest ended, right on the edge of a cliff with a sheer drop-off straight into the lake.

But that didn't make sense, Astral thought, they had been walking on a fairly level path the whole time…

"Such is the will of the Astral World." Rabelais watched Astral, eyes boring into his. "One can bend the very fabric of reality around with merely a thought. One can even turn mountains" –they nodded at the towering peaks- "into prairie."

Astral's eyes widened; the towering mountains and thick forest were simply _gone_, replaced by tall, waving grasslands that stretched as far as he could see. Even the smell changed, from the fruity mountain air to the smell of dirt and grass and horse manure.

Rabelais was behind him now, uncomfortably close, and whispering in his ear. "All it takes is to distance your soul from that of your emissary. Each time you call forth Hope, you give him a part of yourself. A part of your soul. It is draining, it is going to suck you dry." They reached around and tapped the amulet dangling from Astral's neck. "You hold the Key. Draw your power from the Key and not from your soul and you will become one of the most powerful Summoners who ever lived." They stepped back, close to the edge of the cliff – except the cliff was no longer there, but replaced by a rolling hill.

"How?" Astral turned to face them, hand clenching the key. "How do I do that?"

"That is your trial to overcome." Rabelais waved their hand and Astral felt his body deconstructing. He was angry now; he had come here to learn how to control his powers and received only cryptic answers.

"What do you mean by that?" His voice reflected his resentment. "How am I to overcome a trial when the means for overcoming it are not presented to me?"

"But they _are_, Astral." Their mouth twitched in a small smile. "But be cautious relying on others to help you with your trial. Yuma Tsukumo and the Kamishiro twins… are dangerous forces."

"What?"

"Be wary how involved you let yourself become with them."

Astral opened his mouth-

-and found himself looking right into a pair of wide red eyes.

"Yuma." The name slipped out of his mouth in a shaky breath.

Yuma grabbed Astral's shoulders and helped him sit up. Astral gripped Yuma's upper arm with one hand and winced at the pain on the back of his head. Cathy and Kotori sat a short way off, looking anxious; Kotori bit her lip and clasped her hands together while Cathy had a finger in her mouth again.

"You hit the ground pretty hard, Astral," Yuma murmured. "And you didn't make a single movement for twenty minutes. You didn't even breathe. I thought you-" He cut off, shoulders slumping. "Anyway, I'm glad you're fine. Did you learn anything?"

Astral looked down at his pendant. "I… have to unlock the powers I possess on my own."

_Yuma Tsukumo is a dangerous force._

"Can I help?"

_Be careful how involved you let yourself become with him._

"I think it's something I have to do on my own." At Yuma's tightened lips, Astral gave him a soft smile and gently pulled his arms away. "But your offer is appreciated."

Yuma nodded slowly, clearly not entirely appeased, but he moved away and let Kotori shove some kind of painkilling herb in Astral's mouth. He choked it down; it was disgustingly sour, like a rotting citrus fruit. But as he obediently swallowed the herb, he looked back at the young lieutenant stoking the small fire. What was it about him that worried the Astral World?

He remembered a conversation Captain Kamishiro had with Yuma a year ago, when the former Captain-Commander was killed during the overthrow of the Arclight Kingdom and Yuma was the sole survivor of the assault.

_Your friends are dead, Yuma. The rest of us are going to be unless you tell us what happened. And yet you've given up. Where's your _never give up_ spirit now? Tell me why you lived when they all died._

Did that incident have something to do with what Rabelais had warned him about? Was Yuma a danger to the Astral World? If so… what was he?

And what of the Kamishiros? Why would the Astral World be wary of the last two humans on the planet born with powerful Astralite gifts, gifts from the gods themselves?

He was suddenly tired again, but this time, it wasn't a physical tiredness.


	12. The Worth of a Soul

**Chapter Twelve: The Worth of a Soul**

From the force of the door opening, Vector knew who had come to see him without even looking up from filing his nails.

"Why, if it isn't my darling Durbiekins. What brings you and" – his eyes flickered toward the sound of a second pair of footsteps – "our lovely little black sheep Barian to my humble throne room? How's the shoulder, by the way?"

Mizael snorted as he glanced at a new set of blood-red silk tapestries hanging by the spacious, newly paned stain-glass windows depicting the Barian crest. His hand touched his shoulder gingerly as Vector chuckled to himself.

Durbe didn't look away from Vector's throne, and his eyes flashed at Vector's name for him. "Don't call me that again unless you wish for me to look away as Mizael thrusts a sword through your neck."

Vector's eyebrows shot up. "Threatening another lord? _Someone's _in a touchy mood today."

"I'm only in a touchy mood because you expect me to do ten different things in five different kingdoms while you sit around giving yourself a manicure."

"A good emperor knows how to delegate."

Mizael laughed humorlessly. "Of course, because you know _all_ about being a good emperor."

Durbe gave him a warning look before turning back to Vector. "You can't possibly expect me to keep tags on the Tenjo brothers, the Arclights, the Tsukumo women, _and _lead the search for Prince Astral and his band of renegades on my own."

"Why Durbe, are you asking for my _help_?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm telling you to shoulder some of your own responsibilities instead of assuming that I will take care of everything for you."

Vector tossed the file aside and sighed dramatically. "Then I'll take care of affairs in the Tenjo Kingdom, how does that sound?"

Durbe heard Mizael inhale sharply before he felt the urgent tug on his sleeve. "You can't let him have Haruto Tenjo." Durbe could barely hear Mizael's voice.

He certainly would never let Vector within ten miles of Haruto, if he could help it. With that kind of power, Vector could undo everything Durbe had dedicated his life to in a matter of hours. He could only hope that Vector didn't know about Haruto's powers to begin with, but with Vector's unsettling interest in the Tenjo Kingdom… He couldn't be too sure.

"No."

Vector settled back, covering up his flash of irritation so quickly Durbe might have imagined it if he hadn't known Vector too well. "What do you want me to do, then, Durbie?"

"You should treat him with enough respect to use his name properly," Mizael spat.

"You're one to talk of respecting a Barian Lord, Mizzy," Vector said smoothly. "Still letting him talk to you like that, Durbie?"

Mizael's expression tightened and Durbe held up a hand. "Mizael, stop."

"But-"

"We'll talk later. For once, just be silent." Mizael crossed his arms and turned away, and Durbe turned back to Vector. "You can lead the search for Prince Astral."

Vector threw his legs over the side of the throne chair and rolled his eyes. "That's grunt work."

"Then you should have no problem with it."

Durbe turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, Mizael giving Vector a scathing look before following. The heavy door slammed closed behind them.

Vector chuckled to himself as he admired his nails. "So _close_ this time. No worries, though, Durbie-wurbiekins. I am perfectly capable of delegation. Just you watch."

* * *

Haruto heard the soft footfalls in the hallway outside his room. Too soft and too cautious to be anyone who was supposed to be in the hallway this early in the morning; most of the servants would begin their daily cleaning and chores when Lord Faker awoke. But then, Lord Faker had been called away to Heartland the afternoon before and had not yet returned.

By process of elimination, Haruto deduced that his brother was awake and roaming the halls, and sure enough, Kaito was halfway down the hallway when Haruto opened the door.

"Brother."

Kaito paused and turned his head. "Haruto. You're awake already?"

Haruto stepped into the hall and closed his bedroom door behind him. "Why are you dressed like that?" He had never seen his brother wear anything quite like it; a tight white coat that fell to his knees, loose blue trousers, white boots, a tight white shirt. Instead of wearing his blue sash around his waist, he wore it draped across his body over his left shoulder, under the coat. His white gloved hands clenched a grey-blue cloak. Haruto's eyes fell finally on the sheathed sword at his waist; around the wire-wrap was a handsomely crafted dragon. "Where are you going?"

Kaito sighed and walked back to Haruto. "I need to take care of some things." He placed his hand on Haruto's shoulder. Haruto wrenched himself away, ignoring Kaito's look of surprise.

"I asked _where_ you were going." He was being stubborn, he knew it, but if his brother insisted on treating him like a child, perhaps he should respond like one.

There was a short pause. Kaito looked down at his travelling cloak and back to Haruto. "I need to visit Arclight."

"Why?" He couldn't quite understand; Chris was just here yesterday morning. What other reason could his brother have for visiting Arclight?

"Haruto, please, don't concern yourself with-"

"Does it have something to do with Chris?" Haruto cut in. "He looked very upset when he left yesterday morning."

An unusual look flitted across his brother's face. Regret, maybe. Perhaps they had fought again. "A bit, yes." He gave Haruto a sad smile. "I won't be long. If all goes well I should return in a few days." He lifted his hand as though contemplating patting Haruto's shoulder with it, but seemed to change his mind and turned to walk away instead.

"If it doesn't?"

Kaito didn't slow, or glance behind him this time. "Then I will see you when I can. Take care."

Haruto watched him leave, and when he had rounded the corner, bowed his head and offered a quiet prayer. Maybe this time, the gods would listen.

_Please keep my brother safe. Please watch over him, and don't let him do something terrible._

* * *

The Heartland Palace sat high on a hill overlooking the Revise River, half a day's ride from Heartland City, one of the most prosperous cities on the continent. The kingdom itself was a fraction the size of Arclight and Astral, but what it lacked in size it made up for in its production of rare luxury items from its southern coast and islands – sugar, spices, silks, fruits – and Heartland City's popular sporting events.

It was still early spring, too cool out for sports and far too early in the morning for them anyway, so Lord Heartland invited Lord Faker to eat breakfast with him in a modest sized dining area with wide windows facing toward the river.

"It's my favorite place to eat in the mornings," Heartland explained, smearing peach jam on his bread, "because it faces away from the city. Every so often, it's nice to forget the bustle of the city and the people living out their pointless lives, wouldn't you say?"

Faker took a sip of apple juice. It was sweet, and had a wonderful flavor. Not for the first time, he was somewhat envious of the southern islands that produced the fruits and sugar that went into making these drinks. "I wouldn't necessarily consider their lives _pointless_. They all contribute to the betterment of society in some way or another."

Heartland laughed softly. "Maybe some do. But many laze about, begging for food, begging for money. They're a detriment to my society."

"Don't you have them arrested and forced into your little games when they're caught begging?" Faker swirled the dregs of his juice and contemplated asking for another glass. The sweetness was hurting his teeth a bit. Best not to.

"They're no longer a detriment then, are they?" Heartland settled back and adjusted the gold band around his head. "They're contributing to entertainment, which is one of my kingdom's greatest sources of revenue."

"I suppose you're right about that." Faker picked up his fork and sliced into a hardboiled egg. "You're certainly doing very well for your kingdom." This was the point he had been waiting for all morning, but a knock at the door cut into his next question.

"Enter."

A young man entered, eyes narrowed and mouth twisted in thought. The neat hair that fell into his eyes was a light shade of blue, as was his white-embroidered shirt and slacks – an outfit that mirrored Heartland's black and red one – and the cape that swished as he walked toward Heartland was a darker shade. He knelt, shifting the sword at his waist.

"What is it, Lieutenant Okudaira?" Where the young man looked puzzled, even concerned, Heartland looked bored.

The lieutenant licked his lips. "My lord, we've heard some interesting reports from the mercenaries up north."

"Oh? Along the Astral border, you mean?"

"Yes sir. It seems two young women got into an altercation with one of the hunters in the trading village. One kept referring to the animal pelts he was trading as 'my friends' and the other apparently had a northern accent."

Heartland frowned into his juice. "Probably just a couple of strange refugees from the Astral Kingdom passing through."

Okudaira shook his head. "That's not all, my lord. This altercation took place only half a day after a strange sighting."

"An animal sighting?"

"No, sir." Okudaira glanced up. "A blinding ray of light, breaking through the storm clouds onto the mountainside. Some even think… it was humanlike. Like a god."

Heartland's hand froze halfway to his mouth and his eyes darted across the table at Faker, who was watching Okudaira curiously.

"How many claim to have seen this?"

Okudaira looked over at Faker. "Half a dozen, my lord."

"Interesting," Heartland murmured into his glass. He was silent for a moment. "Lieutenant, I want you to send a carrier pigeon to Arclight. Inform…_them_ of what you heard." He looked out the window, at the sun that was starting to cast stronger light over the smooth river. "Make it a fast one; I want it there by sunset."

"I… yes, my lord." Okudaira frowned but stood, bowing to the lords, and hurried out.

Faker waited until the lieutenant's footsteps faded before speaking. "You think it wise to send word of this to the Barians?"

"They approached me, you know." Heartland sounded a bit troubled now. "One of the lords. Durbe. He offered my kingdom autonomy in exchange for favors. Not officially, you see, because he has to have full backing from the others, but he seems to carry a lot of weight with them."

"And you trust him?" Faker didn't mean to sound skeptical. But he didn't believe for a second that the Barians would allow arguably one of the most prosperous kingdoms in the world, let alone the continent, slip through their control. They had offered his kingdom autonomy as well, but in exchange for his son. "There's always something else they want."

_I will do anything to keep my kingdom and my brother safe. I will give myself to the Barians. I will become powerful. For Haruto._

"Not in the slightest. But you have to know how to play the game, Lord Faker." Heartland leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. "Play politics right, and you can avoid bloodshed. Play politics wrong and you have war."

To save one son, he sacrificed the other. This went far beyond politics. It crossed a moral line… didn't it? Was it right to allow his son to make this decision? Was it right to be relieved that his son was the one who ultimately made the choice for him? He felt like a coward for even thinking it.

But if this rumor was true… perhaps Lord Astral wasn't dead after all. They had built their conquest of the Astral Kingdom on the fact that the entire royal family was dead. If Astral was alive…

"I agree with you there, my friend."

* * *

_The candle burned slowly to a nub as Captain Kamishiro worked late into the night, pen steadily roving across maps, formations, and general orders. His eyes itched with tiredness, but he knew he would not sleep until his scouting party returned, so he occupied himself with mundane work. Once he wrote the last order for the next day's cavalry drill, he threw down his pen, glancing out the window at the mountain range separating the Astral Kingdom from the Arclight Kingdom. The waxing crescent moon hovered directly over them. His eyes travelled to a hurried note one of his messengers had returned with a few hours before, one that had chilled him to the bone._

Trouble in Arclight. King Byron missing. Possible Barian attack. Investigating; won't get too close unless we find out what they did to him. –Mara

_He propped his elbows on the desk and rested his head on his folded hands. Mara was one of the last three living Dragoons; she possessed the outward calm of a river with its raging undercurrents. She looked it, too – her prematurely lined face bore crisscrossing scars that served to highlight her service to the kingdom as well as her strength in battle. As Captain-Commander, she outranked him and should have been the commander of this expedition, but she preferred fighting to issuing orders and so the job fell to him. _

_Even with the comfort of Mara leading the scouts, his stomach still clenched as he thought of placid King Byron's kingdom invaded by the Barians. _

King Byron missing_. What did that mean? Did they take him captive? Did he flee? Was he dead? _

_Undoubtedly Mara had figured out what had happened to Byron, or they would have been back by now. It had been a week since they had set off, and it would take them perhaps two days' hard ride to cross the hundred miles or so across the mountains. They couldn't be more than half a day's ride behind the advance scout, unless they had gotten too close anyway. _

_He rubbed his hands across his face and let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. _

_He sat staring at the village at the foot of the hill as the moon crept through the sky, waiting for movement to tell him that his Dragoon band was back. His shoulders relaxed when, around three o'clock, he saw the horses trotting back._

No_._

_He stood slowly. They weren't trotting. They were galloping, and there weren't enough of them._

_He grabbed the gleaming silver trident propped against the wall and darted to the door, soft black boots making little noise as he sprinted to the palace entrance. _

_"Open the gate!" he barked as he ran by the sleepy guardsmen. "Get a Healer!"_

_The gate opened slowly, just in time for a slight figure in the black leather armor of a Dragoon slip off the lead horse, red lined cloak falling in a heap over her body._

_"Mara!"_

_Captain Kamishiro fell to the ground next to her, dropped his weapon, and gently cradled her by the shoulders. Her fiery red hair clung to the wet blood coating her scarred face and she gazed at him with unfocused green eyes. _

_"Ryoga." Her voice was weak, gravelly. _

_"Mara, what happened?" he whispered. He spared a glance up at the dozen men and women hunched in or thrown over their saddles but quickly returned his eyes to hers. There was nothing he could do until the Healer arrived – wherever she was._

_"Barians," she grunted. _

_His blood turned to ice._

_"In the Arclight Kingdom? Are you certain?"_

_"They got Byron. Did something. He knew we were there. Ordered an attack."_

_It was as though every nightmare scenario he had ever envisioned had tumbled on him like a rockslide. _

_"Byron ordered an attack?" Calm, amiable, contemplative Byron?_

_Mara reached up with a bloodied hand and grabbed his loose black shirt. "He isn't the same man. They killed that Byron. The Byron that's left is insane. Vengeful." She spoke intently, hand shaking with the effort of gripping his shirt, body trembling against his. "The Barians have him. He signed an alliance with them. Between the two, they wiped out two thirds of us with their Hell-forged weapons. The rest of us got away mostly unscathed, but then we were ambushed by Barians near the Shrine. I'd be dead, if not for the lieutenant." She coughed up blood onto his shirt. "Well, I'm dead anyway, but I had to tell you."_

_"What about the Healer with you? Where is he?"_

_"Dead. Died about six hours ago as we crossed the mountains, then all our wounds opened up again about an hour ago."_

_"How?"_

_"Those damn Barian weapons. Something in them rejects Healing." Blood streamed from the corner of her mouth. "They're gonna come after our kingdom next. You have to stop them."_

_"What do I do?" His voice was childish, unbefitting a twenty-three year old Dragoon. He knew it, but didn't care. Two years his elder, Mara was a talented, shrewd, sharp-tongued woman he had grown to consider as much a member of his family as his twin sister. And here she was, coughing up blood as she died from an agonizing stomach wound._

_She gripped the fang dangling from a leather cord around her neck and ripped it off._

_"No," he whimpered, dread seizing his body._

_"Ryoga Kamishiro," she whispered tremulously, "I, Mara Simin, of the Last Band of the Holy Order of Dragoons, hereby relinquish my position as Captain-Commander of the Astral Kingdom's Royal Guard -" _

_"No-" _

_"-and bestow upon you the sacred duty of carrying out the protection of the Astral Kingdom."_

_Mara Simin pressed the fang against his hand and died in his arms._

_A Healer in white rushed out of the palace, nightdress hiked above her knees._

_"Captain-" she breathed heavily before catching sight of Mara's bloody body. She went rigid as he touched his forehead to Mara's._

_"May you find peace in our Mother's arms," he found himself murmuring as he gently placed her on the cold ground and covered her face with her cloak, "and in your lives to come."_

_He stood slowly, eyes travelling over his wounded scouts. A dozen. A dozen soldiers left in the entire unit. "Heal them," he said to the petrified woman behind him, his voice strangely distant and steady. _

_"Captain, what-"_

_"Captain-Commander," he interrupted curtly, holding up the broken cord, the fang dangling dangerously. He raised his voice. "I have been passed the mantle of responsibility from Captain-Commander Mara Simin."_

_His men gazed at him, and despite their wounds, many of which bled heavily, all but one fell to the cold earth and sank to their knees in a respectful bow. _

_Captain-Commander Ryoga Kamishiro turned to the last figure, slumped against his horse's neck, eyes glazed, face pale as snow. If he hadn't been freely bleeding from his arm, the captain would have assumed he was dead._

_"Heal them, and watch for signs of relapse in the night," he repeated to the Healer, who sank into a curtsy and rushed off to the nearest injured woman. He approached the man on the horse. "Yuma Tsukumo," he said softly. "Captain-Commander Simin informed me that you kept her alive long enough to bring her back."_

_Yuma's red eyes flickered toward his captain's. "Yes," he said in barely more than a whisper._

_"What happened?"_

_"I killed someone," Yuma whispered. His shoulders tensed with the effort of preventing himself from breaking down. "I killed… more than one someone. Eight, nine, ten- I don't even know, but I did it, and my sword is tainted with it. They weren't Barians, they were _people_."_

_Ryoga brushed his hand across Yuma's cheek, wiping off a salty stream of tears mingled with blood._

_"You became a soldier," he said softly. "You accepted that you might have to take someone's life, Yuma. You did it for your kingdom, for your prince. For your commander. You did a great thing that may save many yet."_

_"The Captain-Commander died anyway." He shook his head furiously, tears flowing freely. "You and your sister are the last Dragoons now that she's d-" His words choked off._

_Ryoga shook his head. "I need you to tell me what happened, but the night is cold and you need rest and Healing. Report to me in the morning."_

_He turned and walked back to the Healer, ignoring Yuma's heavy sobs._

* * *

Durbe thumbed through the journal, skimming over mundane inventory reports and registry lists. Mizael was right about it; most of the interesting things were at the beginning. He was able to piece together some of what Captain Kamishiro felt about a number of things, and discovered some mildly disturbing aspects of the captain's personal life while he was at it.

"Mizael." He looked up at his general, sitting stiffly in an armchair by the fire. It was a cold evening, and the library was often one of the coolest rooms in the Arclight palace.

"Mm?"

Durbe held up the journal. "What did you think about this entry about the former Captain-Commander being pregnant when she was killed?"

Mizael made a slight shuddering motion and looked into the fire. "The world is better off without more of those filthy half-breed humans running amok."

A quiet tapping at the library door cut into Durbe's amused reply.

"Come in."

"Forgive me, Lord Durbe and General Mizael, but… Lord Kaito is here."

Durbe turned in his seat. His eyes narrowed at the two men walking in. Both were unexpected. "Lord Mihael…? And Lord Kaito, what brings you to Arclight unannounced?"

Mihael paused by the door, eyes focused on the floor, and Kaito strode past, face flushed and hair windswept. "I request to speak to you, Durbe." He spoke in a clipped tone, and Mizael made a quiet noise of disgust.

To Durbe's relief, Mizael remained silent, though his general glared at Kaito and Kaito glared right back. "Very well… Lord Mihael, is there something else before I ask you to leave us…?"

The young man reached into a coat pocket and pulled out a tightly rolled scroll. "This came in from Lieutenant Fuya Okudaira of Heartland a short while ago. It's addressed to you." He approached Durbe, eyes still on the ground, lips tightened. Durbe studied his face for a moment before taking the scroll. Mihael gave a short bow and walked to the door, each step becoming quicker than the last, until he was all but jogging out the door.

With a sharp claw, Durbe neatly sliced the wax seal and unrolled it.

"Mizael." His voice was far more alarmed than intended. How could this…

Mizael took the scroll without a word and read it through, eyes becoming wider with each line. By the end, he looked down at Durbe, Kaito's presence all but forgotten.

"In Heartland?" he said finally. "Why the hell-"

"I don't know." Durbe rubbed his eyes. "Vector can't send Barians in or he'll violate the non-aggression pact."

"Do you think Heartland's aware of what this means?"

"He must be, or he wouldn't have sent the letter, but-"

Kaito cleared his throat. "I did you the courtesy of riding all the way out here today only to be ignored, and I would appreciate you listening to what I have to say."

Both Barians turned their gazes to him. He rolled his shoulders back and pulled his chin up, though Durbe could see him bite his lower lip and clench his fists.

"Of course. My apologies. Have a seat." Durbe gestured at the vacant chair next to Mizael's. Kaito pulled his cloak off as he sat. "What can we do for you?"

"I offer my soul to you in exchange for autonomy for my kingdom and for Haruto to be left alone, with no _help_ from anyone without my explicit consent."

Durbe, halfway through lowering himself in his own seat, stood back up and shot a glance at Mizael, who, by the bewilderment in his eyes, was sure he had misheard the lord as well. "I'm… sorry?"

"You heard me perfectly well." Kaito looked into the fire. "I'm giving you my soul. But leave Haruto alone. I will find a cure for him myself with the power that relinquishing my soul to you will grant me."

The Barian lord shifted his robes and resumed sitting. "It doesn't quite… work like that. Extracting a human soul is a…" He leaned his head back against his chair and let out a low breath. "It's a terrible process."

"You'll wish you had offered to die instead." Mizael's tone held no emotion.

Kaito slowly switched his gaze from the fire to Mizael, who was watching Durbe. Durbe could see the reluctance in his face. "It surely isn't as painful as what you are going to do to Haruto if I don't go through with this."

Mizael shook his head, finally tearing his eyes from Durbe's. "Is your soul really worth so little to you?"

"It's worth less to me than my brother. But it's worth more than anything else I can offer." He stood up again. "If you won't accept, then I guess-"

"Wait." Durbe scratched at the bridge of his nose with his pinky. He gave Mizael one last, pleading look, but Mizael was staring forlornly at the rug. "I… I will accept your offer, Kaito Tenjo."

Mizael wordlessly stood and began walking toward the door. Durbe didn't need to ask why. He knew. He didn't want to do it again, either.

"I will get Alit to help me, then," he said softly. Mizael wrenched the door open and slammed it behind him. Durbe's shoulders slumped and he let out a quiet sigh before turning to the door. "He was right, Lord Kaito. It is… a process that you will wish killed you."

"I'm aware."

"And you still want this."

"I want to save my brother."

Their eyes met. There was so much sorrow in Kaito's eyes, so much pain, so much _loss_.

"I hope this power you seek for your brother's sake is worth your soul in the end," Durbe whispered before pulling the door open. It was going to be another long night.


	13. The Price of Freedom

**Chapter Thirteen: The Price of Freedom**

Kaito's screams reverberated around the room, from high-pitched shrieking to sobs that wracked his entire body. The bindings tying him to the floor tore at his skin as his body thrashed; his bare chest shone with sweat despite the coldness of the small marble chamber. Alit knelt by the glowing crest on the floor, eyes squeezed shut against Kaito's anguished, unintelligible screaming, pressing his hands to the crest with so much reluctance that Durbe wondered if he was going to just tear himself away.

_Just a little longer, Alit,_ he thought. _I can't do it by myself._ He felt his energy ebbing, draining into the crest. It felt worse, somehow, than the last three times; it felt like so much more of his energy was being expended than ever before. Something was going wrong.

Kaito screamed a word, one word, _Chris_, and pulled his body in on itself as much as the bindings would allow. Durbe didn't want to look, but he had to, he had to make sure the ritual was correct…

…but it wasn't.

"Alit," he managed to say when Kaito's screams turned to heaving sobs, "it should have been done by now."

Alit looked at him, eyes full of disgust, revulsion, possibly hatred – Durbe couldn't blame him if the last were directed at him – and started to pull his hands back.

"No!" Durbe slid his hand over the crest, grabbing Alit's and forcing it back on the crest. "No, I have to… I have to figure it out." _What's happening? What's going wrong? _It had never happened before, on the five of these he had done in his life. They had been unspeakably horrible processes – only someone like Vector could really take pleasure in something like this, he had decided – but he could always tell when they were done, he could _always_ see the formation of the soul gem.

But there was no soul gem with Kaito Tenjo. His soul's attachment to the Astral World must have been stronger than any Durbe had dealt with. He was faithful, but this level of attachment was absurd.

If he couldn't create a home for Kaito's soul, he would have to use an existing one. It was dangerous, but so was continuing to pour his life energy into this crest when Kaito's soul fought so hard against it. Something that Kaito was already attached to would make this process easier.

"Alit," he tried again. "I need you to get his sword."

Alit's eyes narrowed. "What about you-"

"Do it quickly." Durbe took a deep breath and focused on the crest. It was going to be an excruciating burden to carry out alone, but it needed to be done.

Alit lifted his hands from the crest and Kaito's screaming continued.

* * *

The faint sound of screaming filled the palace, audible even two floors above. It wasn't a welcome sound, but it was at least familiar by now.

Mihael's hands convulsed on his lap with each distant scream of pain. His breathing became staggered and he flinched violently. It was too soon, too fresh in his mind to drown out; he might have been hearing the sounds of his own screaming, or his brother's. He could hear the gentle reassurance that he would live from his father. The gentle reassurance that comforted him none at all because it was his father who put him through it in the first place. He could hear the Barians arguing in low voices, he could see their blurry outlines hunched stiffly over the glowing crest on the floor, could hear their quiet incantations littered with muttered curses. He could feel the stabbing pains all over his body, as though a thousand pins were thrust into him at once, could feel the droplets of blood streaming from his pores, pooling on the floor, forming a grotesquely beautiful pink gem that he now wore on his wrist.

_Your soul_, Mizael had spat before storming out, and Durbe had gently explained further.

_It is a physical embodiment of your soul. It is no longer able to be influenced by the Astral World, no longer really yours. Now that it is free, you hold great powers. When you die, your soul will join with those of the Barian World. _

It was terrifying. He didn't want it. He didn't care about power, he didn't want his soul to be trapped in the Barian World. But his father had other plans for him and Thomas and Chris, and as an ever-dutiful son, he obeyed.

Thomas watched him carefully, propping himself against a pillow on the sofa nearby. It was well past bedtime, but Mihael couldn't sleep, and he suspected through all Thomas's insistence that he simply _preferred the night_, that Thomas was just as unsettled by the events taking place. "You going to be all right?"

Mihael forced himself to nod. "When it's over."

His brother made a soft noise of disgust and closed his eyes, stretching out. Unlike Mihael, who still wore his day clothes despite the late hour, Thomas wore a loose white shirt and yellow night trousers. "I don't get why the hell he's doing it. He always struck me as a faithful servant of the Astral World. Why would he sell his soul to these bastards?"

Another scream echoed from the basement chamber. A word mingled with the cries this time; _Chris_, it sounded like. Mihael bit his lip. As if Chris could help him now.

"Where _is_ Chris?" Thomas opened one eye and frowned. "I haven't seen him since he hurled that chair at Durbe."

Mihael shook his head. He didn't know, but if he were Chris, he would be leaving the palace so he didn't have to hear this. He knew how much Chris loved Kaito, even if he tried to hide it.

"Ah well." Thomas shifted on the couch, holding his purple gemmed bracelet up to the light. "What color do you think Kaito's soul is going to be?"

"That is insensitive," Mihael murmured. "He's doing it for his brother. He needs the power of the Barian World to save his brother." Chris had tried to do the same for his brothers, but it didn't matter in the end. Mihael wondered if Kaito's situation would be the same. He hoped it wouldn't.

Thomas snorted. "Like that's going to do any good." He turned to look at Mihael. "Did you look at the letter?"

"I…" Mihael looked down at the shaking hands in his lap. "Yes. I resealed it. I don't think Lord Durbe noticed."

He had his brother's attention now. Thomas bolted upright and leaned closer. "What did it say?"

Mihael glanced at the door. He didn't fear that Durbe would walk through, or Gilag, who was still recovering from something, but Mizael had a penchant for showing up unannounced all over the palace. "There was a sighting of what sounded like a summon along Heartland's mountain border."

Thomas knitted his brow, frowning. "But there aren't any summoners in-" His expression changed abruptly to one of comprehension. His eyes flickered to the ceiling. "The northern mountains of Heartland, you say?"

"What are you going to do?" Mihael whispered. The screaming in the basement stopped. It was now eerily quiet.

Thomas traced his finger over his gem. Mihael knew that look. Contemplative, scheming. "Father would be interested in meeting Prince Astral again, don't you think?"

* * *

Durbe slumped against the wall outside the infirmary, breathing heavily. He and Alit had dragged Kaito's unconscious body from the basement up two staircases, and while Kaito's body wasn't necessarily heavy, neither Barian had much energy left. Durbe, at least, had done it before; Alit hadn't, and the moment they were in the hallway, he slid down the wall and curled up on the floor. His body ached with weariness. He was tempted to go into the nearest room and follow suit when he heard hurried footfalls around the corner. He pushed himself off the wall and swayed for a few seconds before deciding that he was better of just leaning against it. He crossed his arms casually and glanced up at Chris, whose footsteps were muffled by the thick rug running down the corridor.

"What did you do to him?"

He couldn't say he wasn't surprised by the fury and anxiety etched into Chris's face, in his eyes, and in his voice. He wasn't even surprised when Chris grabbed him by the front of his robes and pushed him harder against the wall.

"What did you do-"

"Unhand me."

He was definitely surprised when Chris let go and took a step back, casting a bewildered look at the sleeping general on the floor at Durbe's feet.

Durbe brushed his robes. "Lord Christopher, I would suggest not threatening me again. I granted you a degree of leniency when your brothers' souls were at stake, but I will not bend to you any further. Do I make myself clear?"

They locked eyes. Chris's mouth pressed into a thin line. "What did you do to Kaito?"

It was perhaps fortunate that there was no furniture in the hall for him to throw this time. "Exactly what Lord Kaito demanded I do. I certainly didn't want to do it." He regretted ordering Alit to help with the ritual. It affected him far more than it affected Mizael. He would have to see whether the issue was that Alit's soul energy was less potent than Mizael's, and if that might have contributed to the difficulties.

Chris's breath came out shaky. His mouth quivered. "You didn't have to do it just because he wanted you to."

"I don't need to explain my actions to a human."

"Then I don't have to obey a monster. You trapped my soul, not my free will."

Durbe flinched. _Monster_. The word stung, it always stung. Chris turned to the door.

"Lord Christopher."

Chris paused, hand on the doorknob. "Make it quick."

Durbe's gaze dropped back to the floor. There was no need now to play at being the indifferent, calculating lord he had built himself as for so long. Chris had already seen him in his weakness. "There are only three things that cause a soul gem's energy to deplete. Drawing directly on the power of the Barian World, sickness, and… making love." Chris's eyes flickered toward the door at this, and Durbe couldn't help but wonder… But it _would_ explain a great deal. "When a soul gem depletes completely, the person will die. There are means of restoring some energy, but they are few and difficult to do."

Chris turned his gaze to Durbe. "What does it matter to me?"

Durbe pulled himself away from the wall and bent down to pull Alit to his feet. Alit weighed more than Durbe, all muscle, and Durbe struggled to pull him up as Chris watched indifferently. Finally, Durbe managed to straighten up. "Because Lord Kaito needs to be careful how he uses it. His soul had to be torn from him irregularly and placed in an existing object, in this case, his sword. It will undoubtedly place a greater strain on his body." He threw Alit's arm around his shoulders and began staggering down the hall under a combination of Alit's weight and his own exhaustion. He paused again as Chris opened the infirmary door. "Making love using physical human energy does not affect the soul energy, so he should be fine unless he discovers the Barian method, which I do not recommend he do with a sword and no soul gem."

He felt Chris's gaze linger on him for ten seconds too long before he heard the infirmary door close.

* * *

Haruto sat by his bedside, face emotionless. When Kaito tried to smile and reach out to him, Haruto moved back. The pain in Kaito's heart far outmatched the stinging sensation all over his body.

"I did it for you," he tried to explain, but Haruto turned his back.

"Your search to cure me will end in your death, Brother." Haruto's voice was just as expressionless as his face had been.

Kaito was confused. What was wrong with him? "Haruto, I'm going to use my powers to save you-"

Haruto spun around, face contorted into a grotesque display of fury, and lunged forward, forcing his hands on Kaito's neck. Kaito's eyes widened in horror as he reached for Haruto's hands, to pull them away from his neck, and he couldn't understand-

"_How are you going to save me when you've killed yourself, Brother_?"

"Haru…to…"

He gasped, pushing at the hands that now rested on his shoulders-

-wait…

He blinked furiously at the sight of the blue eyes in front of him. _Not Haruto_…

"Chris?"

Chris shushed him gently and pushed him back on the bed. Kaito forced himself to breathe, to return his heart to a normal pace again. As the adrenaline wore off, he realized that the stinging sensation was much worse than before, like hundreds of needles pushing from under his skin. He lifted a bandaged hand to his neck, and found another bandage wrapped around it. He allowed himself to whimper at the pain. Chris had been through it too, right?

"Is it supposed to hurt like this?" His voice was hoarse, his throat dry. He tried to swallow, but there was no moisture.

"Here." Chris held Kaito's shoulders as he tipped some water into his mouth. The cool water provided some relief. "It will hurt for a little while. But the worst of it is over."

He let Chris lower him back on the pillow and Chris pulled a straight-backed wooden chair up to the bedside. Kaito tried to hold his gaze, but couldn't. There was something like disappointment in Chris's eyes, and their last conversation played out in his head_. If I become stronger, I can keep my brother safe._

_If I become stronger. _

What if he couldn't? He had never felt so weak, so helpless, in his life. He reached up to his neck with a stiffly bandaged hand. He could still imagine Haruto's fingers around it. It had never happened, but in a way, it had.

"Chris." His voice was less hoarse now. "What powers do I have now? How can I help my kingdom and my brother?"

"Everyone is different," Chris murmured. Kaito felt Chris's hand take his own. He didn't like Chris to show affection in public areas, and the Healer might come by at any moment, but he had to admit to himself that there was something comforting in the gesture. Chris knew exactly how he felt, after all. "I think we can all create the portals, but they take a lot of energy. I can also-"

Kaito tried to return the sudden pressure on his hand, but his fingers wouldn't move the way he wanted them to. "What?"

"Kaito, please promise me that you will only use your powers to help Haruto." There was a sudden urgency in Chris's voice now.

"What?"

"Promise me, Kaito!"

Kaito finally drew his gaze back to Chris's face, at the way Chris's eyebrows creased in terror. He lifted his arm again and noticed what he should have from the beginning. "Chris, where is my soul gem?"

Chris shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. "You don't have one."

"But…" Where was his soul? If he didn't have a soul gem like Chris and his brothers, then…

Chris placed his other hand on Kaito's and pressed it to his cheek. "Durbe said the extraction process was… irregular."

"What does that mean?"

Chris released his hand and reached for the sword leaning against the bedside table. He felt it, the tingle of energy that spiked through his veins, as Chris's fingers brushed the dragon on the wire wrap, and he knew.

"Oh my gods," he whimpered.

"Your soul is here, Kaito." Chris set the sword next to him on the bed. "Please, if you won't listen to anything else I have to say for the rest of our lives, just… don't use these powers for anything unless it is completely necessary."

Kaito couldn't speak. He rested his hand on the sword housing his soul as the impact of his choice hit him.

His soul wasn't really free after all.

* * *

Captain-Commander Ryoga Kamishiro leaned his head against the pane stared blankly out the window, the fang clutched in his fist. The sky churned, spitting lightning and roaring with thunderclaps that rattled the windows. Rain wailed against the palace in torrents, spilling its tears against the tragedy. It was as if Nature herself manifested the pain in his heart at the loss of an entire band of elite soldiers and one of the three remaining members of a dying clan_. It's our duty to save our race, Ryoga_, Mara had told him one night three months ago, speaking very fast, as though trying to convince herself it was what she wanted. _The likelihood of producing a child with the ability is greater when both parents have it._

So he had fulfilled his part. It had been strange making love to his commanding officer. He remembered the sheer, skintight undershirt she wore, the pomegranate soap barely masking her sweat. The way her fingernails dug into his shoulders, neck, back, thighs, hips as she tried finding leverage while she straddled his waist. How she gripped him and how he felt an unwelcome sensation in his midriff, how she forced him inside her. How her nails tightened so much into his hip bone that it drew blood. He wasn't even sure it qualified as making love; she had barely looked at him through the entire process, which lasted only a few minutes, and she left, reeking of sweat and body fluid, when she finished. Weak and numb with pain in his middle from her forceful undulations, he had lain on the bed for nearly half an hour, unable to find the energy even to slide on his pants – the only article of clothing she had bothered removing from him. She hadn't stroked her hands on his chest, run her hands through his hair, or even kissed him. No, they did not make love. He doubt she knew how; he certainly didn't. They simply satisfied the innate human desire to propagate the race. It was his only experience sharing a bed with another. Perhaps that was how it was really done.

"Ryoga?"

He turned his head, meeting a heavily shadowed pair of violet eyes. His twin sister stood hesitantly a few feet away. He hadn't heard her approach.

He didn't respond at first, but turned back to the storm raging outside, watching it with disparaging eyes. His expression unsettled her but she waited before taking a small step forward.

"Ryoga…"

"She was pregnant, you know. The commander. Three months along."

A shiver ran up Rio's spine and her breath caught in her throat. She had suspected it, but hearing it from her brother made it more unpleasantly realistic. She didn't need to ask who the father was. Duty, it was always duty with him. Losing Mara broke his heart, Rio knew. She had watched him from the palace as he performed the burial ritual in the palace gardens, but it was the ritual for a family member, not a lover. She couldn't speak.

"They're all dead, Rio." He shook his head. "How? They were recovering and four hours later they were dead."

"Lady Kotori is looking for you," Rio said softly. "When the others died, Yuma Tsukumo's screaming was what brought her into the hospital wing."

"Why did he survive when all the others died?" He snapped his head back to Rio and unfolded his arms. "Why did Yuma Tsukumo live when he had the same injuries?"

"Are you angry that he lived?" Rio said in disbelief. "It's not like he _wanted_ to be the only survivor."

"Everyone wants to live, Rio."

She gave a bitter laugh. "Maybe you should talk to him for a change. I have never seen anyone with less will to live before in my life."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and left her brother to watch the storm.

* * *

Ryoga Kamishiro woke, slowly this time. His head spun; he felt like throwing up. He struggled to sit up against the dizziness and hunched over, head in his hands. Rio slept next to him, her face pale as she mumbled unintelligibly.

It was dark, and cold. The Dragoon Shrine was not built as a place of permanent refuge, but as a supply post and temporary protection from Barians, and hadn't been used in a year, to his knowledge; at least, not since the Barian invasion of Arclight.

Not since the Barians killed his squad.

He placed a hand on his stomach. The wound tingled, but it no longer bled. The one on his thigh gave a dull throb.

Had they been there only a week? Why was he still sick?

He pulled the heavy blanket from his body and winced at the chill as he stumbled from the lumpy cushion they had found to sleep on.

The two of them had spent most of the week in prayer and meditation, applying ointments to their wounds, and resting. Ryoga was sure he had dreamed every terrible thing that had happened in his life from the attack on his village to last week, but it seemed his memory continued to find things to torment him with.

From the wetness on his sister's face, he knew she was having the same dreams.


	14. An Oath of Treason

_Note: I finally went through the other chapters and changed "Misael" to "Mizael." I'd been resisting doing it for consistency's sake but I really just had to do it._

**Chapter Fourteen: An Oath of Treason**

"…all found dead just a short ways from the Shrine. It had to have been the Kamishiros."

"How long?"

"About a week."

Hushed voices drifted into the infirmary from the hall outside, drawing Kaito out of his uneasy rest. His body still ached, but instead of being sharp pains, it was a dull stiffness, not much different from the times he had come down with a fever. His bandaged hand brushed against something warm, and he finally opened his eyes, his breath hitched in his throat as he tore his hand away from the sword lying next to him. It shouldn't have felt warm. It was metal; it should have been cool to the touch.

Chris wasn't there, either. Maybe it was for the best.

"…what Durbe thinks."

"He's worried, and frankly, if he's not going to tell us _why-_"

Kaito looked over in time to see Alit enter the room, followed by an enormous Barian whose name Kaito couldn't recall. Alit held himself with none of the usual swagger; his broad shoulders were slumped and his brows furrowed. The large Barian walked with a distinct stiffness in his shoulders, holding his arms rigidly by his side with each step. Both had a curious, helmet-like outcrop on their faces; much different from the seamless skin on Durbe's face or the masklike, winged protrusion on Mizael's.

They stopped when they realized Kaito was awake and watching them, and Alit straightened up unconvincingly. "You're awake. Good. Durbe sent me to check… a few things." He eyed Kaito's sword with narrowed eyes.

"Such as?" Kaito sat up, his hand reaching subconsciously for his sword.

Alit noticed. "No need to get uptight about it." He pulled a small vial from an inner pocket and set it roughly on the side table. "Drink that. When you're done, remove your shirt."

Kaito lifted an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Just drink the damn potion. We don't have all day." The large Barian crossed his arms.

Without taking his gaze from the two, Kaito reached over and picked up the vial with stiff fingers. It smelled awful; like decaying citrus. He grimaced and drank it as quickly as he could, gagging on the overwhelmingly sour flavor. Despite its potency, he could feel the dull throbbing ebb somewhat. Fighting the urge to throw up, his fingers fumbled over the buttons of his sickbed clothing. As he pulled it off, he glanced down at his chest and let out a terrified whimper.

Alit made a soft noise of disgust and leaned over Kaito, who recoiled from Alit's attempt to touch him. "Don't you dare lay a hand on me," he spat, placing his hand over the protruding veins covering the area over his heart. Touching them made him queasy, like he was touching a parasite that had burrowed its way into his skin. The urge to throw up intensified, but he clenched his teeth to hold it back.

"Move your hand or Gilag will move it for you. Neither of us in a very good mood and I promise you I don't want to touch you either."

"What are you going to do?"

"Just look at it."

Slowly, Kaito lowered his hand and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see the grotesque display on his body, nor did he want to see the Barian's face. He tensed at the claw touching his chest, tracing the veins, before the hand withdrew. Kaito opened his eyes in time to see Alit exchange a grim look with Gilag.

"What?"

Alit jerked his head at Gilag and the pair headed back toward the door without a second glance at Kaito.

"What's wrong with me?"

Alit paused. "Durbe is really the only one qualified to tell you that."

Kaito placed his hand over his heart again as the door closed.

* * *

Alit and Gilag walked side by side in silence toward the east wing. Durbe had dragged Alit along with him as far as he could get from the infirmary before dropping Alit on a bed and collapsing on the floor next to it. Alit woke first; when he found Durbe's unconscious body on the floor he had promptly alerted the Healers. Yet upon awakening, Durbe had insisted on their treating Alit first, and when Alit was cleared, asked him to check on Kaito.

At this rate, Durbe was going to kill himself before he could sort out the problems facing him.

As they reached the intersecting hallway to Durbe's chambers, Mizael swept from the opposite direction, hands clenched. He wore his golden travelling cloak, which was an oddity in itself; where would Mizael be going without Durbe?

Mizael came to a stop when he caught a glimpse of his fellow generals. "Have you seen them?" he demanded without preamble.

Alit held out his hands and raised an eyebrow. "Seen who?"

"The two younger Arclight brothers. They're not in their chambers, they're not in the common areas, they're nowhere that I can find in this palace."

Gilag scowled. "Do they matter right now?"

"King Byron wants them," Mizael snapped.

_Oh. _Gilag glanced down at Alit, who furrowed his brows. "I haven't seen either of them since before… since yesterday afternoon." _Since before my soul energy was depleted for a selfish prince_. He felt anger toward Durbe for forcing him to go through with it… but at the same time, Durbe had borne the brunt of the ritual. Any of the other lords would have expended as little energy as they could get away with, or perhaps even have forced others to do the ritual while they watched.

Mizael rubbed his face. His body was stiff, his eyes narrowed almost to slits. "Damn those little bastards," he muttered, half to himself. He turned back to Alit. "Did you need to talk to Durbe?"

Alit briefly explained Kaito's lingering physical abnormality and Mizael let out a disgusted _humph. _"I'll let Durbe know. I need to talk to him anyway. I need you two to set out some scouts and look for the Arclights."

"Where?" Alit asked skeptically. "They can make portals. They could be anywhere they've ever been before."

Mizael studied a portrait of a long-dead former king for a moment, shaking his head ever so slightly. He seemed to be arguing with himself. Alit would have preferred to see Mizael in his human body at that moment; it was much easier to read Mizael's human face. Finally, he spoke. "North Heartland. Send a small squad to North Heartland. Very small, mind you. Three or four. We don't want them noticed."

He turned and strode down the hall, ignoring Alit's bewildered stare.

"Why?" he muttered when Mizael was out of earshot. "Why would they be there?"

Gilag shrugged. "Can't really argue with him, can we? Let's just hope the Arclight brothers aren't as bloodthirsty as the Kamishiros."

* * *

Durbe looked up at Mizael like a child who had been caught breaking his parents' rules. With each scathing word that Mizael spat at him, Durbe flinched, and his hands clenched on his blankets.

_You could have killed Alit._

_You could have killed Kaito._

_You almost killed yourself._

_He deserves every word,_ Mizael convinced himself. _He's behaving stupidly and recklessly_.

When he paused to compose himself, Durbe shifted and pulled his blankets closer. He looked more drained than Mizael had ever seen him. His eyes were dull, his skin tight, and his body showed signs of malnourishment that Mizael hadn't seen on him since their days as new recruits. He looked like a man on his deathbed.

"It was the only way," Durbe murmured. "We command Tenjo now and not a drop of blood was shed. It was worth it."

"If you had died, we would be trapped with six lords with six different agendas clamoring to control things," Mizael snapped. "That would certainly _not_ be worth it."

"I am prepared to give my life for my cause." Durbe's voice was a little stronger at this. He turned his gaze from the hanging canopy above his bed to Mizael. "Didn't you accept that, when you gave me your oath of loyalty?"

_I intend to abolish the system of the Seven Lords and bring up one ruler to unite the Barian Empire. Fragmented rule leads to chaos and competition. One ruler will bring us together. Only together will we achieve our dreams._

_That's treason, Durbe._

_It's reality. If we stay as we are, we will perish. If my dreams for the benefit and prosperity of my homeland brand me a traitor, then so be it. I will accept my fate knowing I tried to save my people._

Mizael wordlessly shook back the sleeve on his travelling cloak and held it out to Durbe. On his forearm was a small, faded scar. Thirty years ago, Durbe had pierced himself with a Barian knife, then Mizael, and they had gripped arms tightly as their blood mingled together. They had been young recruits, in the Barian army for only a few weeks, when they had run into each other in a dark library afterhours and made a decision that would make or ruin them.

A blood oath. A blood oath to treason.

"You trusted me. I trusted you. I remember every word of my oath to you, Durbe. Every word."

_I swear to willingly and obediently serve and protect Durbe, who will unite my homeland under his wise rule. I will lay down my life to defend his, and search out the greatest power of the Barian World to achieve this goal._

"Do you remember yours?"

Durbe closed his eyes. "_I swear to be a wise and generous ruler, unable to forget the efforts of those who lift me. As such, I will help Mizael find and contain the power he requires to help defend the home we both love so dearly._" He opened his eyes again and stretched out an arm. Mizael took it, right below the crook of the elbow, as Durbe held Mizael's forearm with a weak grip.

"You need to live," Mizael whispered. "Fulfill your oath, Durbe, and don't do something like this again."

"I need time to rest," Durbe murmured, finally releasing Mizael. He slumped back on his pillows. "I'm so tired."

"Don't move from this bed until you have strength enough to stand without requiring anything to hold you up."

Durbe's eyes creased in a small smile as he closed them. "What is the state of Kaito's body? Alit said he would be back with a report, but…"

In his haste to berate Durbe for his actions, Mizael had forgotten to pass that information along. He didn't see any need to concern Durbe with something that Durbe had no control over. He would let Durbe rest first. "He's weak. The Healers are tending to him."

Durbe nodded sleepily. "Has the chest swelling gone down?"

_Damn it._ "It's been over a day since the ritual."

Durbe's eyes opened again. "That's… not what I…" He tried to sit up. Mizael placed his hands on either shoulder and pushed him back. Durbe grabbed his hands, face twisted in worry. "Mizael, the failure of his body to produce a soul gem could have caused the blood to pool to the surface instead of escaping through his pores like it should have. He won't survive a week in that condition."

"I'll take care of it," Mizael murmured. "Stay in bed, Durbe."

"Mizael-"

"I said I'll take care of it." Mizael released Durbe's shoulders, but Durbe didn't let go of his hands. Mizael let him hold them until he finally drifted off to sleep.

He was relieved that Durbe hadn't asked about his travelling cloak. He had been foolish to wear it to see Durbe… but he would take the matter of the missing Arclights into his own hands.

* * *

Rio rubbed her brother's back, grimacing as he threw up over the side of the stairs. She had hoped that taking him outside for some clean air might help his sudden, violent bouts of nausea, but so far she had been disappointed. It had been over a week since they had arrived at the Dragoon Shrine, and he was still in no fit shape to go anywhere. Time was running out, and they would have to cover ground at twice the rate to get to Tenjo on schedule.

Ryoga shook as he dropped his head back in his sister's lap. She brushed his hair out of his sweaty face and sighed. "I think you're getting worse, Ryoga."

He mumbled incoherently in reply.

Truthfully, she hadn't been feeling her best either, though she was by no means as ill as her brother. Her sleep had been plagued with memories of her village burning, of Barians giving chase after the three young Dragoons who fled westward to the safety of the Astral Kingdom. The things that she remembered, the smell of the burning bodies, the taste of smoke on the air, didn't help her unsettled stomach.

"Come on." She pulled his arm over her shoulder and hoisted him up. Without his armor, he was much lighter than he had been as they trekked up the mountain, but she was tired and he was still heavier than she.

She dragged him through the entrance hall, a circular room built entirely out of stone, with a high ceiling and small torches that cast eerie shadows over them. Down the side corridor to the left were the dozen bedrooms; to the right were the kitchen and latrines. She took him to the right, to the kitchens, and dumped him in a chair as she searched the cabinets for some kind of spices to fashion into a soup. There were precious few provisions that were still useable. She thought about reprimanding her brother for letting the Shrine be neglected for a year without bothering to resupply it, but his pale, clammy face looked so pitiful that she decided to save it for another day.

"Ryoga, I found some dried noodles, so I'm going to make you a soup out of it. I expect you to drink it all."

He gave a noncommittal grunt and slumped forward on the table.

When the soup was finished, she had to shake him gently to wake him up. He gazed blearily at the bowl and reluctantly picked up his spoon.

"How is it?" she ventured after he had eaten a few spoonfuls.

"Bland as hell."

Typical.

"Thanks," he muttered.

She nodded and began eating some of her own. It _was _bland, and she grimaced. But they both needed to eat.

"I wonder how they're doing," he said suddenly, staring into his soup. "They should be in central Heartland by now."

She blew gently on her soup and studied his expression. He looked forlorn, his eyes heavily shadowed and framed by creased brows. "If they keep out of the cities, they should be fine. It'll take longer to detour around them, but it's safer."

"Safer." Ryoga stared into the broth in his bowl. His shoulders slouched. "I hope he doesn't have to kill anyone."

Rio set her spoon down and reached for her brother's hand. To her surprise, he didn't pull away. "He wouldn't unless it was completely necessary."

"Even so." He looked up. "Rio, did I ever tell you about what he was like… that day? When the rest of them died?"

_That day._ Ryoga never referred to the day of the Arclight Kingdom's fall any other way. Rio had seen Yuma that morning, screaming in his sleep, tearing his bedsheets, a completely broken man. She couldn't imagine how much worse he could have gotten. "No."

Ryoga leaned his head back, resting it on the back of the chair. "After I told you about Mara, I went to see him…"

* * *

Captain-Commander Kamishiro wasn't alone when he approached the hospital wing. A man dressed in black mourning silks that contrasted with his pale skin, making him look nearly translucent, stood at the door, looking in the small window leading to the quarantine room from which Ryoga heard anguished sobbing.

"Lord Astral," Ryoga murmured, giving the man a deep bow, hand resting on the hilt of the sword he carried at his waist. "What brings you here?"

"Captain." The prince inclined his head courteously, taking in the Captain-Commander's dark leather armor down to the black leather boots and red-lined black cloak trailing behind him. "I heard one man survived the scouting party to the Arclight Kingdom, so I came to see him." His eerily mismatched eyes flicked back to the window. "Though I wonder if 'survived' is the right word."

Ryoga stepped closer and followed the prince's gaze. Yuma curled up on the bare cot, hands clenching his hair as he shook violently.

"Where are his bedsheets?" Ryoga asked quietly.

"Lady Kotori removed them when he tried to hang himself with them," Astral said rigidly.

Ryoga felt a sickening clench in his stomach. "Has he said anything about… about last night?"

The prince shook his head imperiously. "He's been cursing the gods that he didn't die with them." He placed a stark-white hand on Ryoga's shoulder. "I am grieved at your loss, Captain. Our kingdom mourns for those taken by the Barians."

Ryoga gently removed the prince's hand and opened the door to the room. Astral followed him in, but stood back by the door as Ryoga approached the shaking man on the cot.

"Yuma Tsukumo."

Yuma glanced up slowly, terror evident in his red eyes.

"On your knees," the captain commanded in the same flat voice.

Yuma whimpered. "Leave me, Captain. I failed them, all of them-" He cut off as the captain reached down and seized him by the front of his shirt and yanked him off the bed onto the floor.

"I gave you an order and I expect it to be obeyed," the captain continued as though Yuma had not spoken. "You will not disobey me again."

Yuma's hands and knees pressed into the cold marble floor as his chest shuddered to take in air.

"Tell me what happened last night."

Yuma shook his head.

With a heavy, frustrated breath, Ryoga drew his sword and placed it inches from Yuma's throat. Astral made a noise of alarm, but the captain ignored it. He waited.

"Will you kill me?" Yuma whispered. Pleading. The sight of him made Ryoga's stomach churn with anger, pain, disgust, sadness. He kept his face impassive.

"No."

"Why?"

"I want your answer. Only a man who has embraced his past and prepared for his death deserves the honor of death."

Yuma's face paled. He couldn't speak.

The captain slammed his sword point into the ground, making the younger man jump slightly.

"You're afraid to die, but you're more afraid that you've killed. Taking another's life isn't so easy, is it, Yuma Tsukumo?"

Astral hovered by the door, watching Yuma's shoulders shake and the captain's shoulders remain stiff as a board. The expression in the captain's eyes… it wasn't the same cold indifference he spoke with. It was a deep concern.

The captain reached down and pulled Yuma by his shirt again, pulling him to his feet, until they were eye level. Noses barely a finger's width apart, Ryoga whispered to him.

"I need to know what happened, so I don't make that mistake again. And you need to tell me so you can come to grips with the fact that you killed someone. The unpardonable sin, isn't it, Yuma? Is that why you're afraid? Let the gods sort out your personal bullshit and feelings of self-loathing in the afterlife and get on with your damn life while you're still here."

Yuma's eyes moved between Ryoga's eyes and his lips and back again. "I can't, Ryoga," he whispered back.

Ryoga let out an enraged yell and shoved Yuma into the marble wall. He heard a sickening crunch followed by a pained cry. Kotori burst in behind Astral and let out a shriek but Astral held his arm out, stopping her.

"You spineless coward!" the captain roared, yanking Yuma toward him again. "Do you remember what I said to you on your first day of training?"

Yuma whimpered in pain.

"I told you that you didn't look like you'd last a week!" Ryoga shoved Yuma into the wall again, ignoring Kotori's cries of protest and Yuma's gasps for air. He leaned his face close again. "You told me something I haven't forgotten. Do you remember what it was?"

A choked squeak, a barely perceptible whisper of his name.

Ryoga shoved Yuma farther up the wall. "You told me that you would never give up. Never. If your friends died around you, if you faced death yourself, you would fight. You would fight because people were counting on you and if you gave up, they would suffer for it. You said you'd always bring it to the people hurting your friends, no matter what. You said your father called it a _kattobing_ spirit." A nonsensical word, but one that meant a great deal to Yuma. "Well, guess what?"

"Ryoga, please," Kotori whispered in horror, grabbing his arm. He ignored her.

"Your friends are dead, Yuma. The rest of us are going to be unless you tell us what happened. And yet you've given up. Where's your _kattobing_ now?"

Slowly, painfully, a look of comprehension, of agony, appeared in Yuma's eyes.

"I understand," he whispered finally.

Ryoga slowly lowered Yuma to the ground and released his clutch on the shaking man, who collapsed on the bed.

"Heal him," he said indifferently to Kotori, who shot him a withering glare before placing her hands on Yuma's chest.

Ryoga watched as she closed her eyes and murmured in an almost songlike voice in a prayer-like tongue. As she murmured, a soft light spread from her hands and settled across Yuma's chest, causing him to shudder as though doused with a bucket of ice water.

She pulled her hands back and glared at Ryoga again. "I will not stand by as you injure my patients in my presence again, _Captain_," she said, tone clipped. "I don't care how important you think you are."

She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Astral continued his silent sentinel by the door, arms crossed, though his eyebrows raised at Kotori's ire.

"Now." Ryoga pulled a chair up to the bedside. His voice was gentle now. "Tell me everything."

* * *

"…you've read the reports he wrote on what happened next. How they all died. How Yuma tried to save Mara." Ryoga met her eyes. She felt sick again, and no amount of bland soup could help soothe her stomach. She understood now why her brother didn't want Yuma to kill anyone else. The act of killing, even in self-defense and for the protection of those around him, had hurt his soul.

But she remembered one part of Yuma's report. How he had chased down the Barian that had stabbed Mara, chased him down and thrust his sword into its body four times, five, six – _I don't know, I lost track of how many times I did it _– even well after it had died.

_I told him not to let revenge move him to foolishness_, Ryoga had said, and the sudden realization of just how broken the pair of them were hit her painfully.

She squeezed Ryoga's hand in what she hoped was a comforting way.

"I think we should leave at sundown," she whispered. "We have so much to do, and we can't… we can't know how much longer you'll be sick."

He nodded and rubbed at the bags under his eyes. "We've got a few hours left to get some things together, then." He pushed the dregs of the cold soup away and climbed, shaking, to his feet.

* * *

Mizael froze at the sight of Alit sprinting down the hall toward him. Alit was never in this much of a hurry, so what-

"What is it?" Mizael reached out a hand and caught a handful of Alit's cloak as the other general tried to barrel past.

"Let _go_, I need to see-"

"Durbe is getting some much-needed rest. Whatever it is can surely wait until-"

Alit shook his head and tore free from Mizael's grip. "No, it can't!" His voice was panicked. "Lord Kaito is missing!"


	15. The Dragon Hunter

**Chapter Fifteen: The Dragon Hunter**

The Wyvern Forest comprised half of the total area of the Arclight Kingdom, separated from the eastern grasslands comprising the other half of the kingdom by the Heraldry River. To the far north of the forest lay the ruins of a once-proud village of warriors, now whittled to near extinction by a race of creatures from beyond the desert to the east of Arclight.

Building goods and ships from the hearty wood in the forest was Arclight's main industry. The forest paths were well-travelled and well-maintained.

These were not the paths the last of the Dragoons took.

Rio was unusually quiet as she followed close behind her brother, stepping through tall bushes full of burrs that caught on their boots and the hems of their cloaks. Her sickness had abated after a day or so, but it had taken Ryoga nearly four days to get back to full health. Whatever it was that had made him sick had slowed them down tremendously, and they had been forced to stop several times while he leaned against a tree and threw up, or simply to rest when he got dizzy.

The closer they got to the Wyvern Arena in the heart of the forest, the more uneasy she felt; despite their caution in going off the path to avoid any stray travelers or loggers, she still had the lingering sensation that they weren't quite as alone as they'd thought.

"We're almost to the Arena," Ryoga said after a while. "If we play it safe we might be able to stop by and pick up some supplies."

"This is Barian country now," she reminded him. "What if there are Barians there?"

"We could just kill them," he muttered. She rolled her eyes. For as much bravado as he pretended to have, she knew how much he hated himself for the slaughter in the mountains.

"You're going to draw more unwanted attention to us."

"What do you mean _more_?" He turned to face her, frowning, and she made a slight motion with her hand, pointing discreetly at something behind her. His eyes flicked over her shoulder. There was nothing there that he could see. He looked back at Rio, and she lifted an eyebrow.

"There's a trail of blood all the way from the palace to the Shrine, Ryoga," she said conversationally, motioning him onward. They started moving again. "If you don't think the Barians have looked at that and put two and two together by now you're an idiot."

They entered a large clearing, sun hovering above the treeline to the west, and Rio's feeling of unease spiked. In the trees, Dragoons were unmatched, but in the open…

A slight flutter, the softest whisper through the breeze-

She didn't have time to get her rapier, but there was just enough time to dart to the side as a thin sword jabbed at the air where she had been milliseconds before. The sword flashed in the soft sun, following her movement in an arc. She couldn't react; she was on the defensive and didn't have time to reach her rapier-

-but what speed!

Its owner lunged for her again, only this time, Ryoga intervened.

He hated swords, he always had; but since his lance had been destroyed in his last fight, he had to make do with what he had. He may have not been anywhere near Rio's level with a blade, but he was still competent enough, and thanks to him, she had time to draw her rapier and get a good look at the sword's owner.

He and Ryoga were around the same height, though without any armor, this man looked trimmer. He dressed in a bizarre white uniform complete with a blue sash, and his sword was of fine workmanship, with a dragon twined around it.

But what caught her attention most were his eyes – one a greyish color, the other red, and around the red eye was a curious blue marking.

"Who the hell are you?" Ryoga growled, thrusting his sword forward so the man was forced to stumble back from the force.

The man stepped back, out of Rio's range, and looked between the twins with something Rio could only describe as contempt.

"I am Kaito Tenjo," he said in a soft voice. A dangerous voice. "I will offer you one chance to pray for your souls before I kill you."

* * *

Kaito waited for the Barians' footsteps to fade before reluctantly grabbing his sword and pulling himself out of the bed. It felt bizarre in his hands; warm, where it should have been cold. His fingertips tingled.

He found his clothes folded neatly on a table near the door, and before he could talk himself out of it, pulled off his infirmary-issued pants and tugged his uniform on, determinedly not looking at his chest in the process. It disgusted him, made him sick, _terrified _him what they had done. What he had demanded they do.

_All found dead a short ways from the Shrine._

_It had to have been the Kamishiros. _

The Kamishiros… he knew of them. He remembered well the night his father sat him down and told him that the Barians had annihilated the entire Dragoon race. He had known little of the Dragoons, so he had taken it upon himself to learn about them on his own. A tightknit community that distrusted outsiders and married inside the culture to prevent a diffusion of their sacred bloodline. A community that cast out those who showed no _gift_, as well as those who showed romantic inclinations toward the same gender. A puritanical race, to be sure, but skilled warriors that had once possessed great healing powers and agility.

He had given it little thought for many years, but the Dragoons were also said to be the only humans outside of the Astral Kingdom's royal family who directly carried the powers of the Astral World in their blood.

With the royal family dead, the only ones who carried the power he needed for Haruto were these Kamishiros… the last of the Dragoons.

If the Barians could take his soul, couldn't he take another's?

_A short ways from the Shrine. _

He slipped into the hallway, peering both ways, ears straining for the sound of returning footsteps, but he heard none. All the better. The Barians couldn't know he was leaving until he was gone.

* * *

If there was one thing that Mizael realized too late that he took Durbe granted for, it was Durbe's diplomacy.

He paced the hall near Durbe's room, alternately running his hands across his face and clenching them. He had been all over the palace, in every room, three times. There was still no sign of the Arclights – he couldn't even find Chris – and to top it off, even Kaito had vanished from the infirmary.

_What a damn disaster._

He restrained himself from knocking a porcelain vase full of roses from a small table by a window just in time for two figures to round the corner and head in his direction. One was an unfortunate sight and the other was not only unfortunate but also the last person he wanted to see right then.

"General Mizael."

"Lady Polara."

She was in her human form, dark green hair adorned with blood-red ribbons. Much like the red markings under Mizael's own eyes in his human form, two green streaks stood out against her olive skin, matching her eyes and heavily applied lipstick. She wore shimmering green silks, from the long-sleeved gown embroidered in silver to the sheer shawl draped around her shoulders.

"Have you found my sons, General?" the second figure inquired.

Lord Byron had been a peaceable man, like his father before him. He had learned to adapt to the fact that the Arclight Kingdom shared a border with every other kingdom on the continent, and had managed to ensure his kingdom's prosperity and peace for over thirty years.

When the Barians had invaded, Byron refused to negotiate.

He had been tortured to the point of insanity, and to that day, Mizael hated himself for ever taking part in that campaign.

"I… have not."

Byron smiled humorlessly and tilted his head. He looked exactly the same as the Byron of a year ago, with a high-collared buttoned grey shirt and crisply ironed trousers. Even his long braid was the same. The only difference was the permanently manic look in his lined face. "Where could they possibly be, General Mizael?"

"I don't know." His voice was much too disrespectful. He would pay for that later.

Polara scowled at him. "You have no place to talk to anyone like that, General."

He switched his gaze back to Polara and they glared at each other until Byron intervened. "If you would be so kind as to direct us to Lord Durbe's quarters?"

Mizael winced just enough for Polara to notice.

"Is Lord Durbe here?"

"He's… resting." Byron didn't know about Kaito, or there was at least the hope that he didn't, but Polara was definitely not to know. Durbe had acted without the express permission of the other lords, and if she knew he was incapacited because of it-

"Resting? From what?"

"He's tired."

Polara rolled her eyes. _Such a human reaction_. "Thank you, General Mizael, for clarifying why Lord Durbe might be napping. _Obviously_ he's tired. Why?"

The next words slipped from Mizael before he could stop them. "He's been running himself ragged doing your work for-" He flinched.

Byron made a small noise that might have been a combination of amusement and disbelief and he lifted an eyebrow. "How positively _audacious_ of you, General. I see why Lord Durbe keeps you around. Is this his room?" He started to step toward the door. Mizael hesitated for a split second before stepping in front of him, blocking his path.

"General Mizael, you will be in _such_ trouble for this," Polara warned.

"Durbe is resting," Mizael repeated stubbornly. He wasn't going to move unless he was physically removed. Durbe needed rest to keep his soul gem from draining, and more importantly, they couldn't know about Kaito. That much was certain.

"Unwavering loyalty," Byron remarked. "What a wonderful quality. Pity you have so many other unsavory character traits." He smiled, a horribly twisted expression that sent shivers through Mizael's body. "I suppose I will have to come back another time when Lord Durbe is feeling better."

"I suppose so."

Byron gestured to Polara, who stepped closer to Mizael. He looked down on her. "You will report to Baria in three days for a formal hearing on your behavior, General Mizael. I would recommend keeping silent in the meantime." She turned on her heel and followed Byron, her skirt trailing behind her gracefully.

He watched her round the corner and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. He had handled that undiplomatically, but at least they were still unaware of the situation with the Tenjo Kingdom. For now.

He hoped Durbe would be well enough in three days to be there for his hearing. He wasn't sure he could face the other Barian lords without Durbe's support.

* * *

"You left your kingdom," Kaito said in a loud voice, as though he were a judge sentencing them to death. Maybe he considered himself a judge, to an extent. "You abandoned your king and queen and prince to the Barians. You deserve nothing short of death for your cowardice."

"You're one to talk of abandoning his kingdom," the man spat, steadying his sword. "How the hell did you even find us?"

Kaito glanced to the side, where the woman was cautiously circling around, just out of reach. Perhaps he had been a little overzealous in daring to take on two Dragoons at once, but from the way the man held his sword, it wasn't his primary weapon. The woman might present a challenge. He knew a Barian blade when he saw one. _What kind of Astralite warrior would even touch a Barian blade_? She didn't even seem bothered by it. "It's not of import."

The man snorted. "I think it's pretty damn important, _Lord Kaito_. Did the Barians send you? Is the Tenjo Kingdom part of the Barian Empire now? Have you gone to bed with those soulless monsters?"

Kaito abandoned all calm at these words and lunged at him. His body was lighter, faster than it had ever been before, his blade responding at his _thought_.

Well, it _was_ part of him now.

The man stumbled back, clumsily parrying the strike. Kaito felt the air behind him rustle ever so slightly and spun his blade to meet the woman's attack.

He was faster, stronger, more attuned to his surroundings as he drew on his new powers, the powers he gave his soul for.

He could take on five Dragoons like this.

Still, the woman was the bigger threat. He turned his attention to her, nimbly dancing away from the man's strikes, and thrust his sword – one, two, three – _there_, on the third jab, he jabbed neatly into her shoulder. She let out a cry of agony and her hand reflexively dropped her rapier as she fell to her knees, instinctively pulling up to stifle the blood in her shoulder; he relished the look of fear in her eyes as he pulled his arm back-

"Rio!"

The man assumed a dangerously offensive two-handed stance and sliced at Kaito's weak side. He jumped back lightly and parried, catching the man off balance; even on his weak side he held the advantage. He caught the man's ankles with his foot, causing the man to sprawl face-first into the soft earth. Kaito kicked him over onto his back and stepped on his wrist, forcing his grip on his sword to slacken. He bent down and tossed the sword away before straddling the man's stomach.

He had to admire him. Even in defeat, his eyes were filled with disgust and fury instead of fear.

Kaito glanced to the side. The woman – Rio? – was pale and shaking, still holding her shoulder. At the sight of her brother lying under Kaito, she made to pick up her rapier but Kaito held his sword to the man's throat.

"Ryoga-" she began in a weak voice, but Kaito shook his head.

"I wouldn't make any rash decisions unless you want me to slit his throat."

She froze. In a way, he was relieved.

He had never killed anyone before.

He turned his attention back to the man – Ryoga, she had called him. Rio and Ryoga Kamishiro. The names were familiar now. Ryoga had been a commander in the Astral military, and Rio was his twin sister. He had met them briefly, maybe five years ago, when his father had gone to Astral for a friendly dinner with the Astral family.

"The last Dragoons," he whispered. How was he going to do this? If he used the sword containing his gem, would it draw out the Kamishiros' souls into the sword? Or would it kill them, and with it, any chance of procuring the power he needed?

Ryoga looked down at the sword at his throat. "We were trying to reach you."

"Me?" Kaito narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"Because Lord Astral isn't dead."

These words hit Kaito hard. He pulled his hand away slightly. "Impossible," he muttered, but was it? Was there a possibility that…

No, these Kamishiros were cowards, and liars; if Lord Astral was still alive, why did they leave him? Where was he?

"We split up," Ryoga said as though reading his mind. His voice was shaky now. He was scared; good. He had no right to speak to the heir to the Tenjo throne with anything less than respect and fear.

"Why?"

"Lord Astral and… and a couple of others went to Heartland City to convince Lord Heartland to fight the Barians. Rio and I…"

"Were coming to ask my father to do the same." Kaito considered this for a moment. If Lord Astral was alive, maybe…

But then, he didn't know how willing the Kamishiros were to lie to save themselves. What if Astral was dead after all? He would lose his one chance… his one chance to save Haruto.

"I'll take my chances," he whispered, and instinctively thrust his hand forward onto Ryoga's chest.

Whatever he was doing seemed to be causing the man a great deal of agony; he screamed and thrashed, cutting the edge of Kaito's sword into his neck, drawing a thin line of blood.

His hilt burned red-hot, and with a gasp he cast it to the side and pulled his hand away from Ryoga's chest. His screaming abated immediately, replaced by sharp, shaky breaths.

"…the hell… did you do?" Ryoga's eyes displayed fear now. It was too late for Kaito to take pleasure in it.

"Ryoga," Rio whimpered.

A jolt of pain shot through Kaito's chest. He flinched and put his hand over his heart. It was throbbing. His hand clenched over it as he climbed to his feet and recovered his sword. It had cooled considerably, but he still felt the warmth of the metal through his glove.

"The gods have pitied you today," he breathed. Bile rose in his throat. He refused to show weakness in front of these Kamishiros and forced it down. "Do not forget that I will have you at my mercy. Your power will belong to me."

He formed a portal behind him and vanished into it.

* * *

Ryoga leaned his sister against a tree and dabbed ointment on her wound. It was deep, but she didn't complain about the pain or the fact that his hand shook with each pat, though she flinched when the ointment bubbled. He pulled out the last roll of bandages and wrapped it tightly before sitting back and sighing. They were running woefully low on supplies, and they were still three days out from the Arena. He wasn't even sure if they would be able to find this ointment there, unless they could convince a Healer to make more.

Rio moved her arm experimentally. "Lady Kotori's help would be nice right now," she said with a weak laugh.

"Yeah." He ran his hand over his breastplate. His chest still tingled after whatever Kaito had done – it had been agonizing, far worse than anything the Barian weapons had ever caused him.

Rio started tugging off his armor, and he let her. After she pulled his breastplate off, she lifted his shirt and ran her fingers over his chest. There was no mark of any kind, nothing to indicate anything had happened. "What did he do?"

"I don't know." Ryoga glanced into the treeline where Kaito had vanished. In his experiences, only higher ranking Barians had the privilege to use the transportation portals. He remembered the way Kaito's eyes had widened, the way he had tossed his sword aside as though it had burned him. "I don't think he knew either."

"Is Tenjo lost to them, then?" Rio's voice shook.

He tugged his shirt down and sat next to her against the tree, pulling her into a gentle hug. "It seems it might be."

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Now what? Do we keep going?"

He shook his head slowly. He didn't have an answer.

* * *

Kaito fell from the portal, knees hitting soft, cold earth. He hadn't transported himself very far, maybe a mile or two; just enough to get away from the Kamishiros. His chest pulsed in agony as he bent over and vomited blood against a tree. His body quivered with the effort of staying on his knees, and he looked down at his trembling hands.

He didn't know what he had done to Ryoga Kamishiro. He didn't know if he had absorbed power or transferred it; he didn't know what had even caused him to do… whatever it was he did.

His sword lay nearby. He was terrified of it. It was as if it acted of its own free will.

If that were the case, he couldn't control even his own soul.

He pulled down his shirt and forced himself to look at the veins over his heart; they were pulsing out of rhythm with his heartbeat.

"What's happening to me?" he whispered.

How could he save Haruto with a body like this?


	16. Marionettes

**Chapter Sixteen: Marionettes **

It had been two weeks, Yuma realized when he woke one afternoon from a restless sleep. Two weeks since he had lost his kingdom. Since Astral lost his parents. Since the Barians nearly completed their stranglehold over the entire continent. Since he bid his commander farewell for what he knew might have been the last time.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, looking over at his companions. Astral leaned against a cottonwood by the creek, fingering his pendant, eyes gazing blankly at the forest ahead of him. Kotori slept nearby, hand gripping her staff with such force that her knuckles had turned white. Cathy sat next to the creek, head tilted as she muttered to herself.

Astral glanced up as Yuma stood, but looked back down almost immediately. _Strange_, Yuma thought, but it had been a long journey and Astral wasn't used to this kind of demanding physicality or sleeping on the ground. He left Astral to his solemn pendant-twirling and approached Cathy, just out of Astral's earshot.

"Cathy, do you know how far we have left to go until we reach the city?"

She looked up from the stream, startled; a fish that had been idling near her darted off. He wondered if she had been talking to it.

Witchcraft, some would consider it, but he was past caring at this point.

She looked up at the sky and frowned. "About when the sun gets… there." She pointed to a point just east of where the sun blazed.

_Almost a day, then._

They had made good time, despite everything. Cathy's navigational skills had come in handy; she had found every route around towns and villages that took them only a couple of days out of their way.

But something else was bothering Yuma; a feeling in the back of his mind, a prickle that told him that something wasn't quite… right.

"Are we being followed?" he asked quietly.

Cathy's slumped shoulders and the way she bit her lip told him he was right. "It's very strange," she murmured. "There are two of them back at the painted rocks. But there's another few people back at the waterfall."

He mentally calculated this. A mile and half or so for the first pair, and three for the second group. "We need to get moving. Now. Cathy, let me know when they get closer. We may have to fight."

"Are they bad?"

He didn't know. "I hope not."

* * *

Yuma gripped Kotori's arm as they moved, quicker than before. She had woken up dizzy; he could only assume it was lack of proper nutrition and sleep that were wearing her down. Cathy kept her eyes on the sky above the trees, and would occasionally mutter to herself and change directions, heading just a little more due south, or a little more to the east. Yuma trusted that she knew where she was going; after all, she had seemed familiar enough with the concept of _the huge village on the river_. Astral lagged along several yards behind, and Yuma paused occasionally to give him time to catch up.

In the end, no matter how quickly they moved, their pursuers moved even quicker.

"Yuma, I think we're too late." Cathy stopped abruptly and pointed at the sky, where a falcon soared. It shrieked, and a voice from the trees behind them made his heart stop.

"Finally found you, it seems, Lord Astral."

Kotori moved her hands to Yuma's shoulder and she let out a quiet gasp; Astral stumbled backward as he moved closer to Yuma as well. Yuma held his sword in front of him as the two figures stepped closer, pulling down their hoods.

The taller of the two had a mess of dark red and blond hair framing what Yuma supposed was a handsome face, though it was marred by a twisted grin. His companion brushed his slightly curly pink hair out of his green eyes. Both wore clothes that were entirely too fancy for traipsing through the woods, and the smaller of the two wore a large sword strapped to his back. Yuma had the unpleasant feeling he knew exactly how to use it, too.

"Thomas Arclight," the first announced, holding out his hand in greeting. "This is my brother Mihael."

Yuma lowered his sword slightly. _Arclight_? He didn't dare to hope that this meant the Arclights were willing to fight the Barians if they had sought Astral out.

Far more likely, they were here on the Barians' errand.

"How did you find us?" Yuma tried to keep his voice authoritative.

"Oh?" Thomas squinted at Yuma with one eye. "Ah, yes, I remember seeing you on Lord Vector's wanted list. Hmm… your name eludes me."

"How did you find us?" Yuma repeated, louder this time. He raised his sword.

"Hey, hey, no need for that. I'm unarmed, see?" Thomas held out his hands.

"Answer my question."

Thomas placed his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes. "Geez, you're being _pushy_. Maybe you should try being less obvious, summoning on hillsides overlooking entire villages with a great view of you, eh Lord Astral?"

Yuma glanced sideways. Astral's eyes widened. "How did you hear about it in Arclight…?"

"We're not the only ones," Mihael spoke up. His voice lacked the cockiness his brother had, but it still commanded respect. "Lord Heartland relayed it to Lord Durbe."

"And Durbe told _you_?" Astral said coolly. "I find that difficult to believe."

A strange look settled over Mihael's face; embarrassment, or maybe shame. So he wasn't there on the Barians' orders after all.

But then, Yuma realized with a jolt, Heartland knew Astral was alive now.

Without even speaking to him, they had accomplished even a small part of their mission.

"Why are you here?" Kotori demanded, finally releasing Yuma's shoulder.

Thomas grinned. "Everyone wants the last of the Astral family's power. I'm sure you've heard of what happened to our father?"

Yuma stepped in front of Astral. "I will die before I allow you to touch him."

Mihael unsheathed the sword from his back. "We have no need for anyone but Prince Astral."

He was fast; unbelievably so. His sword was also slightly heavier than Yuma's, which gave Yuma enough time to deflect the strike, though it knocked him slightly off-balance. He recovered quickly and danced back into an offensive position. Mihael adopted a two-handed posture that Yuma recognized instantly as the preparation for a spinning attack, and mirrored it.

Yuma saw Astral lift his hand and opened his mouth to call out to him to stop-

"No!"

Mihael abandoned his posture and flung out a hand. The small pink gemstone on his wrist flashed with a tangible energy, and Astral whined as though punched in the stomach. He doubled over, body shaking violently. Yuma nearly dropped his sword and turned to Astral, but Kotori shoved him back toward Mihael. He barely registered her voice – _I've got it, just protect him_ – and his arm instinctively moved to deflect Mihael's attack.

He was a skilled swordsman, and had obviously studied with a master of the art, but so had Yuma.

There had been few in the history of the Astral Guard who had been more skilled with a sword than his father.

Mihael was on the defensive; Yuma had nothing but a blind rage, a need to protect Astral. He wouldn't let anyone have him. He needed to fulfill his mission. Then, with a diving feint, he caught Mihael off balance and knocked him to the ground.

He kicked Mihael's sword away and placed his own sword point above Mihael's throat.

All it would take was a small push.

Time froze, and a different face replaced Mihael's. A mouthless face, with wide, terrified red eyes. Those eyes hadn't been terrified when they had shot an arrow in the Captain-Commander's side. His breath was heavy, his veins pumping with adrenaline. He felt the sword rip through the monster's body-

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Four.

Five.

He lost track.

His hand shook. Tears spilled onto his cheeks as he dropped the sword next to the terrified face of Mihael Arclight, the youngest son of the Barian Empire's first conquered kingdom.

_I can't kill. _

_I can't do it again._

Mihael slowly moved backward. Yuma let him. His sword was lying on the ground next to him, useless.

Thomas's laugh filled the air. "Pitiful! You can't even do what needs to be done to save your prince. Do you really love him enough to kill for him?"

Yuma couldn't answer. He glanced to the side, at Kotori and Astral, who were both kneeling on the ground, Astral wincing at Yuma's gaze. Kotori's face was white, and tears streaked her own face. A little behind them, Cathy stood, petrified, as she gazed at Yuma with terror evident in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely.

"As you should be!" Thomas held out a hand and clenched it, and as a flash of purple emanated from his wristband, Yuma felt his arm move on its own, reaching down for his discarded sword.

"What-"

"I wonder, if you won't do it yourself, how will it feel when I make you do it? How will it feel to be my little puppet?"

Yuma could do nothing as his sword arm lifted itself. He could do nothing as his legs moved on their own.

All he could do was scream in agony as Thomas forced him to attack his friends.

* * *

Vector stretched out on the settee and propped his feet on a pillow. What a dull kingdom. All Heartland wanted to talk about was entertainment and trade rights – as if Vector _cared _about trade rights – and by the end of the day had hardly gotten anywhere with taking over this kingdom.

It might be easier on his sanity to just _invade_ the place.

There was a knock on the door. Vector contemplated telling the maid to go away – it _was _only midmorning – but he should at least make the _effort _to appear polite.

"What?"

"Lord Vector, we have some… guests for you."

_Guests_? "Show them in."

The door opened and four cloaked Barians, each holding an unconscious human in their arms, filed through. Vector bolted upright, eyes widening in surprise as each human was dumped at his feet.

He knew two of them painfully well.

Two more humans followed closely behind, and Vector couldn't fail to recognize them.

"Ah… Thomas and Mihael. What a surprise." It certainly was that.

"Lord Vector." Thomas bowed deeply. "We found Prince Astral and his comrades. We were nearest Heartland City and thought to bring them by to summon one of the other lords to collect when we heard you were here."

"How fortunate," Vector murmured, gripping Yuma Tsukumo's chin. "How did you overpower them? Prince Astral can summon. Did he not summon?"

The two exchanged a hesitant look. Vector smiled to himself. If they thought he was unaware that they had their souls transplanted, they were wrong. Who did they think gave Byron the idea to do it to them in the first place?

Weakening Durbe and Mizael _and _gaining control over the Arclights in one swoop had been one of his cleverer ideas of late.

"No, we caught them by surprise," Mihael said smoothly. A cute lie, that.

"I see. Where are their weapons?"

"Only he had one. I... went ahead and took it. It's a wonderful blade. Masterfully forged. If that's all right."

"I see nothing wrong with that. Well, I'm sure your father will be proud to know that his sons acquired the last of the Astral family. It will help us tremendously in helping to reverse the… unfortunate side effects of General Mizael's coercion."

"Will you really use it to help our father?" Mihael sounded hopeful.

"Of course," Vector lied, eyes crinkling in a reassuring smile. "I'll take them back to Astral and have Lord Durbe collect them when he's finished with his business in Baria."

* * *

Mizael's portal opened into the courtyard at the Barian Palace, Mizael stepping through first; Durbe was still exhausted, and he stumbled through the portal after his general, but shook off any attempts Mizael made to steady him.

He had been, predictably, furious about the hearing. Mizael had put off waking Durbe for an entire day, but with no sign of Kaito or the Arclights, and Polara and Byron hounding him to see Durbe, he gave in.

_You should have woken me well before now_, he said scathingly before sending Alit to find the brothers. He tried to hide it, but Mizael could see the concern in his eyes when he admitted there was nothing to be done about Kaito. It had been three days by now. Kaito would be dead in another four at most, probably fewer, without immediate and intensive Healing. Mizael couldn't spare too much worry about the lord. He had brought it on himself, after all, and he could hardly say he liked the human.

They stopped at the bottom of the stairwell and Durbe finally turned to him and spoke. "Give short answers. One word, if possible. Refer to them as _my lord _and _my lady_, and watch your tone. I am not here to hold your hand through it. I am not even allowed to speak on your behalf unless asked. Do you understand?"

Mizael muttered his acquiescence and turned to ascend the stairs, but Durbe grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him into the wall. Mizael flinched; not only had Durbe never resorted to physicality to make his point known, but he had grabbed Mizael's bad shoulder. The Healing that Durbe had forced him to undergo had helped; but his weeklong resistance to getting it Healed in the first place had left permanent damage.

"Durbe," he breathed, but Durbe shook his head. His eyes were cold grey orbs, and held none of their usual approbation for his general.

"You will refer to me by my title. I am _Lord_ Durbe."

Not once, in the ten years since Durbe became a lord, had he demanded to be called by his title. This was so unlike him; what was happening…?

Durbe's eyes turned toward the top of the spiral staircase. "There are six lords in there who have been waiting a long time to take you from me." His voice took on a sense of urgency. "I swore responsibility for you. Mizael the general is of great help and importance to me. Mizael the prisoner…" He seemed to finally realize that his hand was tightening into Mizael's shoulder and released him. "Keep civil, keep respectful, and I will do everything in my power to keep you from being demoted."

The look in his eyes could only be described as desperate. "I understand," Mizael said softly. Durbe nodded and led the way up the staircase.

The other lords were already assembled when Durbe pushed open the door – all except one.

"Vector is missing again?" Durbe demanded, striding to his seat. Mizael stopped in the middle of the room with the lords surrounding him to the sides. "This is the third time in a row."

"Relax." Alasco yawned. "He's negotiating with Heartland."

_Negotiating_. Mizael didn't like the sound of Vector _negotiating_ with anyone. He had grown to despise the word lately. Still, he was relieved Vector wasn't here. He certainly wouldn't be able to keep his tone civil around Vector.

"And I was again uninformed? Does the Council regard my opinion on diplomacy so poorly?" Durbe's voice held more than a hint of contempt. Mizael prayed he would control his temper; the last thing he needed was for Durbe to get kicked out during this meeting.

"We can discuss Vector with you later, if you like," Pherka said, leaning her head on a propped fist. "Let's get this over with." Durbe settled back and crossed his arms.

"On your knees, General," Ilya ordered, waving a ring-studded hand at him.

His hands clenched instinctively. With the smallest flick of his eyes toward Durbe, who glanced away and shook his head a fraction of an inch to each side, he took a deep breath and knelt.

"Good boy," Alasco said in a voice Mizael had heard him use toward his horses. Mizael closed his eyes and thanked his God that he wasn't in his human form, where he would surely be grinding his teeth to keep from retorting. "It seems Durbe has trained you for this hearing."

It made Mizael's blood boil, that he was being treated like an _animal_.

Polara crossed her legs and placed a finger to her chin. "General Mizael, your behavior of late has been reprehensible. You are constantly speaking to your betters as though equal to them, you openly disobey orders, and you had the _audacity_ to refuse to let a_ king_ pass." She paused, and he remained silent. As long as there was no question, he would give no response. When he remained silent, she sighed and waved a hand. "Explain yourself."

He couldn't see how to reply to this with anything short of admitting that he and Durbe were plotting behind their backs. He forced his gaze forward, at Polara, and decided on a version of the truth. As much as it galled him to have to divulge to these tyrants anything about his past... he had no choice.

"When I was a youth," he began in as polite a tone as he could muster, "my parents disowned me. My mother believed that I was a disappointment. My father believed me to be an… abnormality. Both deeply regretted giving up portions of their souls, their lives, to create me." The lords were silent. In his peripheral, he saw Durbe close his eyes. "I was ostracized. Others treated me as though I were scum. No one trusted me, no one cared for me, and all looked down on me, because without parents, I was less than them." He looked down at his hands, clenched on his sarong. He hadn't noticed. "I have carried the distrust of authority, of class differences, ever since. I cannot bring myself to take a tone of respect with those who do not issue it to me in return."

Koche found his voice first. "A very sad tale, General. But you do not even treat Durbe with respect. Are you saying he does not treat you with respect?"

"Dur- _Lord _Durbe treats me with a great deal of respect. More than I deserve, I am sure. And I believe you are confusing _familiarity _with a lack of respect. I treat Durbe… _Lord _Durbe the same as I would treat anyone who would call me a friend."

Alasco barked out a laugh. "Friend? General, he is a _Lord_. He is one of the highest sources of authority on this continent. You are not _friends_. Need I remind you that the only reason you are where you are today and not rotting in a cell for your impudence is because Durbe intervened and promised to keep you under check. A task at which, I have said for many years, he has failed _spectacularly_. Why should we not take you away and cast you in a dungeon?"

"If I may," Durbe ventured, looking at Polara. She exchanged a glance with Koche, who shrugged, and nodded. "Thank you. General Mizael's seeming lack of deference has allowed me to gain unique views into the plights of my kingdom. _Because_ he is blunt – or as you say, impudent – I can count on him to tell me when my ideas are foolish. Because of him, I have succeeded in helping you bring this continent almost completely under check. I owe General Mizael my life, my success, and my thanks."

Ilya shifted in her seat. "General, I wonder, could you tell us what exactly you and Durbe are doing in Arclight and Tenjo?"

Mizael couldn't stop his eyes from darting to Durbe, and Polara's sharp voice cut through Durbe's noise of indignity. "Don't look at him, Mizael, look at me. Look at me and answer."

"Polara-"

"Quiet, Durbe."

"But I have given the Council my full report on-"

"I said to be quiet."

Durbe fell silent and Mizael turned back to Polara, adrenaline coursing through his veins. How much did they already know? He didn't want to give away any of Durbe's plans, and he certainly didn't want them to know how little control Durbe had over the royal families…

"We… have talked with Lord Faker about…" He could practically hear Durbe's voice, _don't tell them about Haruto or Kaito or the Arclights_, and he searched his mind in a blind panic for an excuse that might appease them. "Disallowing the policy on protective tariffs on Arclight goods to continue. My lady."

It was partly true; that issue did come up in discussion with King Byron, if only in passing. Pherka raised an eyebrow. "_Tariffs_? Is that what you've been doing for two weeks?" She sounded dubious, with good reason.

"Many in Tenjo are wary about free trade with Arclight." Mizael was surprised how easily this lie was coming to him. "Trade that benefits the invaders of a formerly peaceful kingdom makes many merchants who fear war and bloodshed wary of allowing free trade to continue unabated, especially when-"

"That's quite enough of that," Ilya muttered. "We get it."

Polara's eyes bored into him. He wondered if she suspected he was lying. She was the leader of the Lords for a reason. "Very well. On a different topic, King Byron is still wondering where his sons are, as well as why Durbe was incapacitated for three days."

_That makes two of us_. "I have sent out a… a few scouting parties to explore the area around the palace. I'm sure they couldn't have gotten too far in just a few days." They could be a hundred miles away in any direction if they figured out the portals, but the lords didn't know about that incident yet. "As for Dur- Lord Durbe, you should ask _him_ why he doesn't take care of his body and lets himself be driven to exhaustion."

"It's not my-"

A knock at the door cut off Durbe's retort.

Polara tapped the side of her chair rapidly. "This had better be good."

The door opened tentatively, revealing a messenger. He glanced at the nearly full Council, then at Mizael kneeling on the floor in front of them, and realized immediately that he had interrupted something important.

"M… My lords and ladies… Lord Vector wished me to give this to Lord Durbe…" He clenched a sealed scroll between his hands.

Mizael chanced a glance at Durbe. A look of suspicion crossed Durbe's face as he stood and took the roll. His message delivered, the messenger scurried away, closing the door hastily behind him. With his back turned to the other lords, it was impossible to gauge his expression, but he spent a solid two minutes reading the scroll before Koche got annoyed. "Well? What does Vector want?"

Durbe turned and issued a curt bow. "He wants to talk to me about something. He says it will interest me, but won't say what."

He caught Mizael's gaze and held it until Polara let out a frustrated sigh. "Can it wait?"

"He says it's important and that I should visit him in Astral with all due haste."

_Astral_?

"I thought you said he was in Heartland." Ilya narrowed her eyes at Alasco.

"That's where he's supposed to be," he muttered. "Maybe he's finished talking with Heartland already."

"If I may take my leave, I would appreciate General Mizael's help," Durbe cut in. "I believe he has proven himself to be capable of civility and he answered your questions to the best of his ability."

"Unless he's hiding something from us, which I get the distinct impression he _is_," Alasco said.

A heavy silence permeated the room as Alasco let these words sink in. Durbe rested his hand on Mizael's good shoulder. "If you accuse Mizael of keeping secrets, you accuse me of the same. Am I to assume that is the case, Alasco?"

"I don't know, Durbe. Is it?"

Durbe's nails clawed into Mizael's shoulder. "Polara, may we?"

"I have no objections," Polara said. "I know Alasco does, but what of the rest of you…?" One by one, the others shook their heads, though Pherka did so almost begrudgingly. "Very well, you are dismissed. But General Mizael, this is your _last_ warning. You have gotten away with too much for too long, and your only saving grace is that Durbe insists on vouching for you… for whatever reason only the two of you seem to know."

Not for the first time, Mizael wondered how much the other lords knew.

He let Durbe pull him to his feet; his legs were cramped from kneeling on the hard floor for so long. As they closed the door behind them, Durbe whispered into his ear.

_"Thank you."_

* * *

Durbe pushed open the door to the throne room and strode in, cloak swishing around his ankles. He stopped abruptly as he spotted the four half-unconscious humans lying at the base of the dais, arms tied tightly behind their backs.

"Well, Durbe, is this satisfactory for your plans?" Vector's voice rang out from the throne.

Cautiously, Durbe approached the figures and studied each of them in turn. He reached the last figure – an oddly dressed young woman with long silver hair - and narrowed his eyes. He tilted her head with his foot and frowned. "Who's this one?"

Vector shrugged. "She was found with them." He lifted an eyebrow. "Durbe, you look positively exhausted. You're going to work yourself into a coma, you know."

Durbe's fingers twitched convulsively. He decided to ignore this. "Where were they found?"

"The two younger Arclight brothers found them in the Heartland Kingdom's borders. They brought them to me while I was conversing with Lord Heartland."

Durbe cocked an eyebrow. "Heartland? Why were they there?"

"It's _your_ job to find out, Durbe. You're the mastermind, aren't you?"

Durbe paused, confused for a moment before he realized he had meant to ask why the _Arclights_ had been in Heartland instead of in their own kingdom where he had told them to be, but Vector took his question to mean the four unconscious humans on the floor in front of him. That was just fine. The less Vector realized how much Durbe had been losing control of the Arclights, the better.

He was suddenly glad that Vector hadn't been at the meeting, because he would surely have questioned how the Arclights had travelled from their kingdom all the way to Heartland City in three days.

With a sigh, Durbe pulled a knife from the belt around his waist and walked back to the first figure. He cupped the thin, pale face with a curious tilt of his head before driving the knife into the figure's bony thigh.

It elicited an immediate response, a bloodcurdling shriek of agony, as the former prince of the Astral Kingdom was snapped out of semi-consciousness by the Baria Crystal's energy coursing through his veins like a powerful electric current. The frail prince shuddered and slumped unmoving on the cold marble floor. Vector merely looked on from his throne, bored. He obviously found no cruel irony in the fact that the prince now lay beaten and bound at the feet of his parents' murderer as the usurper sat in the chair that was his birthright.

"Has anyone had any leads on the Dragoon twins?" Durbe said conversationally as he stood, wiping Astral's blood absentmindedly on his robes as the other three figures stirred.

Vector stroked his chin thoughtfully with a clawed finger. "My, my, aren't you fixated on them. No. Nobody has seen them since Gilag failed to kill them."

"Well, I would be thrilled with the whole set." He looked down at Astral, who lay whimpering on the ground, eyes glazed as blood flowed freely from his wound. Yes, the Kamishiro twins would be an excellent addition to his studies. There was another reason he wanted them in his possession but Vector wasn't to know that. The more he could keep from Vector, the more leverage he would have later. "But this is a good start."


	17. Secrets

**Chapter Seventeen: Secrets**

The east-facing balconies of Baria Palace had always been Polara's favorite; though the western balconies faced the lake, and many of the other lords preferred them over the prominent view of the low desert, she loved the power that coursed through her when she thought of bringing those lands in the distance to their knees.

And they had.

But there was something bothering her; it had all seemed too simple. She had been a lord for nearly ten years before they had destroyed the Dragoons. Nineteen before they had conquered Arclight, and twenty before destroying the Astral royal family and bringing Tenjo to their command. That left Heartland, and though Lord Heartland danced around the issue, Vector was certain that he would eventually acquiesce.

All these events had one thing in common, and she wanted to know how Durbe managed to bring the pieces of the puzzle together so seamlessly.

"Good morning, Polara."

She turned from her distant view of the lands beyond the Sargasso Waste and met Alasco's gaze. "You got my letter, then."

"Of course. What is it you wished to speak of in private?"

"I've felt as though I'm being led along by certain people, and that I'm not being told the entire truth."

Alasco raised an eyebrow. "I could have told you that." When she narrowed her eyes at him, he shrugged and leaned on the balcony. "Look, I've been pushing for years to get Mizael fired and imprisoned for his insubordination, but nobody seems to want to upset Durbe by doing so. We've let them both get away with practically everything but murder and despite the fact that Mizael is very obviously openly defiant, we let him walk with nothing more than a frown. They're up to something, Polara. They know they can get away with it, and they do."

She was silent for a moment, and turned her gaze back out toward the desert. "There are some things that aren't adding up, and other things that are explaining Durbe's actions and successes." It was difficult to accuse Durbe of anything; she rather liked him. He was generally polite, a brilliant strategist, and a crafty diplomat. But if the information she had was any indication of his true motives…

Alasco drummed his fingers on the railing. He stared unblinkingly ahead. "I don't mean to sound like a palace gossip-"

"If you're worried about sounding like a maid, I'd be very careful what comes out of your mouth next, Alasco."

"Naturally." He furrowed his eyes. "I wonder if there are multiple reasons Durbe has such influence with Mizael. They've been together for something like thirty years, starting with their time as regulars in the army. They're _always_ together-"

"I think I know where you're going with this and I would like you to stop there." Polara couldn't say with complete honesty that she didn't notice the same things, but conjecture about a fellow lord, especially over something as serious a crime as this, was not something she wanted voiced. "Until you can find proof – unequivocal proof, mind you – of your… suspicions, I don't want to hear another word of it."

Alasco's shoulders drooped and he sighed quietly. "Very well. But Polara, if I may have Durbe watched?"

"Under what pretenses?"

"I want to ensure that nothing unbecoming is taking place."

She sighed and looked back out over the Waste. "I have suspicions of my own, but of a different nature. This is from Mihael and Thomas Arclight." She pulled a note out of an inner pocket and handed it to Alasco. He took it, looking annoyed that she had ignored his request, and glanced at it, eyes widening as he did so.

"And Vector gave them to _Durbe_?"

It wasn't exactly something she would ever have envisioned Vector doing either. Nor did she believe Vector had any right to have turned them over to another lord instead of deliberating with the Council.

"He's overstepped his boundaries," Alasco muttered. "We should take a vote and-"

"I think we should let it play out," Polara cut in.

Alasco's eyes narrowed almost to slits. "You're _allowing_ Durbe to perform experiments on them?"

"What better way to see what Durbe's true motives are?" Polara turned to the balcony door and strode back into the palace. Alasco paused for a moment before following. "Does it not bother you that the Arclights went missing and turned up in Heartland in only a couple of days? That's a two week trip on foot and none of the horses were unaccounted for in that time. Further, the Barians who found the Arclights in Heartland say they were there on Mizael's orders. And now Lord Kaito has been missing a week, when I heard rumors that he was almost dead for some reason in the Arclight infirmary, and that Alit and Gilag – both openly loyal to Durbe – had been to see him before he vanished. Add to all that Durbe's two day bed rest…"

Her unfinished sentence hung in the air as Alasco processed this. "Surely he wouldn't risk that."

"I'm only gathering the information I have. In the meantime, I think keeping an eye on Durbe's generals would do more good than to watch Durbe."

"Why?"

Polara rolled her eyes. "Alasco, if you found out that I'd set someone to watch you, how would you feel? Like you said, Mizael is always with Durbe, or always doing Durbe's will, so it's the next best thing. Durbe can't complain that we're watching Mizael, not after the meeting. He should count himself fortunate that we didn't press for a punishment this time. And we've caught him in a lie, since he told me and King Byron that he had no idea where the Arclights were when it is clear he actually did."

By his slow nod, she knew he understood. "Very well. I believe Alit and Gilag were sent probably as a cover up to 'find the Arclights,' so we should send someone out to retrieve them."

"Fine. Please return them to Baria. I have questions for them about Lord Kaito."

Alasco gave her a short bow and left the room. Polara sat in her armchair and tapped her chin with a pointed finger. After all he had done for the Barian Empire, it really was a shame she couldn't trust Durbe anymore.

_If you're going to play this game, at least make a greater effort to cover your tracks, Durbe._

Unless that was part of his game, too.

* * *

Two days had passed since Kaito failed to subdue the Kamishiros. His stomach churned, his head pounded, and though he had never been stabbed and therefore had no idea what it felt like, he imagined it was akin to the feeling in his chest, only constant.

He didn't understand what his new powers did, and at one point as he stumbled through the woods like a wounded bear, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a small pool. He screamed and clutched his face; his left eye had turned red, and a bizarre blue marking surrounded it.

Through his panic he wondered if this was a curse to show the world his sins.

It got progressively worse by the hour, and as his body became painfully sluggish he wondered if he should give up and return home.

_Haruto shouldn't see you like this_.

He slumped against a tree and drew a painful breath. What had Chris warned him?

_Don't use these powers for anything unless it is completely necessary._

"It is necessary," he whispered to himself. "I'm doing this for Haruto; I'm not doing this for me…"

He needed to find the Kamishiros. He needed to figure out what he had done to Ryoga, because if he had absorbed some of his powers, he needed to be able to replicate it; if he had inadvertently passed some of his own strength on to the Dragoon, he needed to know so he could prevent it from happening again. But he had no idea where he was, no idea where they were, and he had been moving so slowly and at times so erratically that they could be miles away from him in any direction.

He was almost glad when he felt his legs give out from under him, almost glad when his pain and exhaustion gave way to a deep rest.

* * *

He was dead.

At least, that's what he thought when his eyes opened blearily and he saw a swirling red mass above him. It was Hell; having his soul torn from him, having his body systematically and agonizingly shut itself down, had killed him. He wondered when he was going to be swarmed with desperate souls, dragging him down with them, drowning him in a lake of acid, dragging their claws over him, ripping into his frail human flesh over and over and over and _over_, and when it was all over – would it ever be? – his body would transform into that body of hardened minerals, every muscle and vein turning to crystal, his mouth sealing itself as he gasped for air, as he became _one of them_.

He had never felt so afraid, so helpless, and so remorseful of anything in his entire existence. Not only had he damned himself, but he had failed Haruto, failed his kingdom, and accomplished absolutely nothing.

But nothing happened. No wails of the tormented, no laughter of the tormentors filled the air. It was silent.

He lifted a hand to his chest and slid it down his shirt. He felt the pulsating veins in his chest, but they seemed-

He rolled to his side and blinked furiously. His hand was wet with blood. And there was a knife at his throat.

Only then did he realize the sky above was not Hell but the sunset, and he was very much alive.

"Don't move," a woman's voice commanded.

He could barely muster the energy to move to begin with, but he didn't speak as a pair of large, rough hands grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet. He swayed against the dizziness, wondering what fresh misfortune he had stumbled into this time.

The knife came away from his throat and he got his first look at his captors. The woman was slender and smaller than Kaito, but the man had probably half a foot and twice the body mass on Kaito. Both wore nearly identical, tight black suits under dark purple coats; the woman sported a magenta ascot, the man, a red one. The woman held the knife, and Kaito saw a couple of small pouches tied at her belt. The man crossed his arms and glared down at him.

"A little far from Baria, aren't you?"

Kaito clenched his fist, remembering too late that it was covered in his own blood. He pulled his eyes from the man and glanced down at his chest; his white coat was stained red. His lips trembled. Why was he bleeding?

But he realized that the sharp stabs of pain in his chest had dulled to a throb. What had happened…? "Calling me a Barian is the greatest insult you could offer me." He contemplated pulling out his sword and taking care of them – he had brought two Dragoons to submission, after all – but as his fingers reached casually for it, he realized that it was gone.

"Looking for this?" the man held it up, and as his fingers touched the dragon, Kaito felt a shock run through his body.

"Put that down." His voice was harsh.

The man ignored him and held it up. The dying sun's reflection turned the hilt a dazzling red-gold. "What a pretty sword. You must be high on the Barian food chain to get this. Which lord do you report to?"

Kaito barely took a step forward before the woman's knife was at his throat again. He ground his teeth, mouth twisting in fury. "How dare-"

The man rolled his eyes and tossed the sword down. "Yeah, yeah. _How dare you_, I get it. By the way, you're welcome for saving your filthy demon life."

"What the hell are-"

The woman's knife travelled down from his throat to his chest. "You had a disgusting blood clot. We bled you."

"You _what-_" He had heard of people being bled, supposedly to get rid of infection, only to die from blood loss. His hand reached instinctively for his chest. It came away wet. "You cut open my chest?" Anger replaced fear. "You could have killed me! I might bleed to death regardless!"

The man raised an eyebrow. "Well, yeah, could have killed a _human_. You can just change back to your Barian form and shifty on back to Baria and heal yourself."

"It doesn't work like-" Too late, Kaito caught his slip and flinched.

"Aha!" The man prodded Kaito's shoulder. "You just admitted to it."

Kaito slapped his hand away, ignoring the woman's raised knife, and made a lunge for his sword. "I – am – not – a goddamn – _Barian_!"

His fingers grazed the hilt and the familiar warmth spread through his fingers for a split second before the man grabbed his wrists and yanked him backward. He grunted as the pain in his chest intensified and hunched over, catching the man off balance. Kaito fell to his knees and clenched his chest again.

_Damn it, why is this happening again-?_

He placed a bloodied hand on his face and squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden, splitting headache.

A small hand grabbed him by the back of the collar as another shoved something in his mouth. He gagged at what tasted like a sour herb and tried to spit it out.

"Don't spit it out, you ungrateful brat, _swallow _it!"

He forced it down and almost instantly felt the pain in his head cease. He looked down at his chest and saw the blood flow stop. He took a few shuddering breaths and looked up at the pair standing over him. He figured he should probably thank the woman for the herb, but seeing as it was her fault his chest had been bleeding out to begin with, his gratefulness was limited. "Are you a Healer?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "Do I _look_ like a Healer?"

Kaito coughed up a few flecks of blood and laughed humorlessly. "No, I don't suppose you do. You look more like assassins. What are you doing in Arclight?"

The man's lips thinned. "I could ask the same of you. You look like you've spent your whole life pampered in luxury. What are you doing with the Devil's Eye and a cursed heart wandering around the middle of the forest?"

_The Devil's Eye. _Some religious groups in Heartland called the Barians' eye markings the Devil's Eye, in keeping with the belief that the Barians were spawned from Hell. _So he still thinks I'm Hellspawn_. "I'm looking for a couple of people."

The woman lifted an eyebrow at her companion, who shrugged at her. "A couple of people," she repeated.

He didn't know how much he could trust these two people. He didn't even know their names, or what their purpose for being here was. But if they were going to kill him for believing him a Barian, they surely couldn't be bad people… right? "Twins. A man about my height, perhaps slightly taller. A woman, a few inches shorter. They're wearing black armor. Have you seen them?"

The man frowned and glanced at the rapidly darkening sky. "No. What do you want from them?"

"They have something I need."

They exchanged another glance and the woman scowled before putting her knife in her belt. "I'm Droite. This is Gauche. We're here… to trade at the Arena."

Kaito didn't believe for a second that they were there for trade, at least not legally. Heartland had plenty of trade opportunities that they wouldn't have had to come all this way into Barian territory for, and they were definitely from Heartland. Their names and Gauche's religious slip-up proved that to him. They were probably interested in the black market at the Arena.

But now he had a choice to make. He could return to Tenjo or Arclight and receive proper care for his... _condition_, whatever it was, or he could continue his hunt for the Dragoons and pray that he figured out how to extract their powers without killing himself in the process.

He'd come this far, hadn't he?

"I'm… Kaito. I would like to accompany you to the Arena, if that's agreeable. Perhaps I will find my… friends there."

Gauche hesitated for a long moment before handing Kaito's sword to him. "We're about a day's walk away. Don't slow us down, and don't think about attacking us. If you're not Barian, you've at least got something to do with them, and we won't hesitate to kill you next time."

* * *

For what felt like weeks, Akari wondered whether the Barians had forgotten about her and her grandmother. The ones who came by their cell with a bare minimum of food never spoke, and with the exception of their first few days of captivity, none of the lords came to see them. Haru was much worse for the wear. The cell was small and cold, and the mats on the cold stone floor were thin and awarded little comfort when time came to sleep. Akari was still a young woman and could stick it out; Haru was an elderly woman with tired muscles and sore joints, and these conditions exacerbated her problems.

When she heard footsteps, she assumed it was time for breakfast – or dinner, perhaps; with no natural light to tell her the time of day, she just couldn't tell anymore – but when five figures stopped in front of the cell, her heart stopped.

It had been over two years since she had seen her brother, and when the Barians invaded, they told her he was at the Palace during the massacre. She had thought him dead. The Barians had told her he was.

His unfocused, deadened eyes drifted to the side and his face was covered in scrapes and discolorations. He slumped against the Barian holding him as though his legs couldn't support him any longer. He looked so helpless, so dejected, that she felt tears fill her eyes at the sight of him. Behind him, a second Barian held a hooded figure. She couldn't tell who it was, but it didn't really matter.

She climbed to her feet, legs shaking, and approached the cell door. The lead Barian stepped back instinctively. "Yuma."

Haru sat up and looked to the cell door before letting out a choked sob at the sight of her beaten and broken grandson being held up by a Barian.

"He won't be speaking to you," the lead Barian said tersely. "I just wanted you to be ready with your answers when we come back to ask you what you know of the Astral World."

"We don't know anything!" Akari whimpered, clutching the bars. "Please, let me talk to my brother-"

"You're fortunate that we've been preoccupied elsewhere for two weeks," the Barian cut in. "It may interest you to know that we now control every kingdom on this continent. This may help you realize that it's not worth keeping your father's secrets any longer."

"He never told us-" Haru began, but at the sight of Yuma's lips moving, she fell silent.

"…failed you…" he mumbled. "Hurt you… Please… forgive… for hurt…" Tears spilled from his eyes and the lead Barian jerked his head the opposite way.

"Take him to Durbe."

"Yes sir."

Akari pressed herself to the bars and reached her thin arm through the bars, where she caught desperately to the Barian's sleeve. He ripped himself free and narrowed his eyes as though touched by something diseased. "Please let me talk to Yuma, I haven't… we haven't spoken in years." I want to tell him I'm sorry for what I did to him.

He brushed his robes and shrugged. "I can't bring myself to care." He turned on his heel and strode away, leaving Yuma's only family to slide to the cold ground and weep.


	18. The Enemy of My Enemy

**Chapter Eighteen: The Enemy of My Enemy**

Chris woke earlier than usual, hand reaching instinctively for something he knew was not there, and would never be there again. It had been over a week since Kaito had vanished from the palace; Durbe had been worried about it. Chris overheard him talking to Gilag about how he doubted sincerely that Kaito would last any longer than a week in his condition without Healing and constant supervision.

His hand gripped the pillow next to him as he wondered if Kaito was already dead.

The door opened without preamble, and Chris jolted to a half-sitting position, leaning on his elbow as he pulled his sheets up to his bare chest.

"Good morning, Christopher."

Chris tensed at the sight of his father, who smiled placidly and stopped at his bedside. He hadn't spoken to his father since Mihael and Thomas had…

No, he didn't want to think about that.

He had hardly spoken to his father in the past year, now that he thought on it. It was too difficult to speak to this man for all of his insistence that he wasn't insane – he was _enlightened. _

"Good morning, Father," he murmured.

Silence passed between them. Chris hated it; he hated not being able to talk to his father about anything, hated not being asked to sit in on diplomatic affairs or legislation as the heir to throne should be. Until a year ago, the thing he had been most afraid of was that his father would find out about his illegal relationship with Kaito. That fear was nothing compared to the petrifying terror he felt each time he as much as saw his father nowadays.

He shifted under his sheets. "Is… there something you needed from me, Father?"

"Yes, that's right." Byron adjusted his monocle and tilted his head at his eldest son. "I heard that Lord Kaito was a guest of ours for a couple of days, but he went missing."

The familiar dread seized his chest. "M-missing? I assumed he had gone back to Tenjo…"

"No, I'm afraid not. He was very sick, as I understand it, but I can't think of a reason he would have been here to begin with, or how he got sick, for that matter. Do you know?"

Chris wondered if his father knew something no one should know. His throat constricted as he forced himself to sit upright. "He… needed advice." It was hard to breathe and he couldn't help his hands from shaking, nor could he stop the warmth rising in his face. "And he… was sick from the journey, perhaps…"

"And he came all the way here for it? Why not write a letter?" All amicability left his expression. He now looked down at Chris with a scrutinizing stare.

"It was advice on a… situation that he needed someone to talk face-to-face with. I've always been his… mentor, so he…" Chris had never stammered through a sentence before, and he knew that if his father had suspected something before, his suspicions were amplified.

Byron leaned over the bed until he and Chris were eye level. "Are you keeping something from me, Christopher?"

It was, perhaps, a last pity gift from the gods that Mihael arrived at the open door at that moment, which spared Chris from having to think up a suitable lie to cover up his stupid mistakes.

"Father, Lord Durbe is finally ready to begin the extraction process in the lower interrogation chamber." He glanced at his brother and narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"Ah! Excellent, excellent. What an exciting day." Byron straightened up and strode to the door without another look at Chris. "I am very proud of you, Mihael. You have done well."

Mihael lowered his eyes to the floor. "I am not worthy of your praise, Father."

Byron clapped Mihael on the shoulder and swept out of the room without another word, Mihael sparing Chris another brief look before following. Chris waited until their footsteps had vanished before letting out a low breath and slumping back on his bed.

* * *

Despite its name, the Arena was not known for sporting events. It was a relatively small, open rectangular fort in the middle of the woods that consisted mainly of dozens of merchant stalls selling all manner of weaponry, medicine, spices, and luxury goods. People came from all over the continent to trade and buy goods; occasionally, some merchants had access to particularly rare, black-market goods. Knowing who to ask for what goods was a trick of the trade and the mark of a regular customer.

In the center of the fort was a marked off rectangular space, much like a court, that people stayed largely clear of. Occasionally, deals went south quickly and turned violent, sometimes deadly.

That was why it was called the Arena.

Hoods pulled low over their faces, the Kamishiro twins moved from table to table, most of which were empty, Ryoga swearing under his breath as he tried to talk down clearly inflated prices on medicines. Neither of them had brought much money; it was heavy, and there was little use for it on their journey. Just as Ryoga wondered if it would be worth challenging the man to a duel for attempting to charge him four times the value of a pint of ointment, Rio nudged him hard in the ribs and glanced toward the entrance gate. Ryoga followed her gaze and caught a glimpse of a burly man and a small woman accompanying a figure dressed in white clothes that pinned him for an obvious outsider.

"Shit," he muttered. He turned back to the merchant. "Fine, but next time you try to swindle me I swear to the gods I will hang you from the watchtower by your ankles." The merchant merely shrugged and took the money.

Ryoga reached for Rio's hand. "If we keep our heads down and look like we belong here, maybe he won't notice us." He didn't believe it himself; there were very few people here this early in the morning and they were bound to be noticed.

"Where did he pick up those friends?" Rio muttered back as they walked hand-in-hand toward a weapons table. "I think now that we know what to expect, we could take him pretty well, but three is a little difficult even for us."

"Hopefully he doesn't notice us, then." Ryoga paused by the table, glancing past the merchant at a slender red lance. The tip looked heavy; perhaps a little unbalanced compared to his trident, but…

He had singlehandedly killed a dozen Barians with his old lance, but with a sword, he couldn't even lay a scratch on a spoiled prince. He felt helpless without a lance.

"How much for the lance?" he asked the merchant, who raised an eyebrow.

"Sure you can handle a lance?"

He opened his mouth to retort but at another nudge from his sister, he changed his words. "How much?"

The merchant tilted her head and grinned, her brown eyes twinkling under a mop of red hair. "Thirty-two kiffa."

"Is that all? Would you like my firstborn while you're at it?"

"Ryoga," Rio murmured.

"We could buy six horses for thirty-two kiffa," he hissed. "That thing has to be made out of diamond for it to be worth that much."

"It's made with a corundum alloy, actually." The merchant smiled, folding her hands on the table.

"Cor-" Ryoga paused. "You're selling a _Barian lance_?"

The merchant reached back and picked it up. "If you'd like to feel it, it has very good balance and weight. It's deceptively light." She held it out. "I made the alloy myself, you see. It was the product of very rare ingredients and a dangerous journey into the Sargasso Waste-"

Despite his surprise that a woman who had to be around his own age knew how to make alloy weapons _and _had survived the Waste, the price still pissed him off. "I'm not touching a Barian weapon-"

"I have never met a man who refused to even touch a weapon such as this before. Curious. Is there a reason for that?" She set it on the table and leaned back, her smile more prominent now.

Ryoga contemplated punching the woman (Rio would kill him later for hitting a woman, but he'd feel justified), but just as he clenched his gauntleted fist, a familiar voice spoke up.

"Dragoons generally carry a hatred for anything that has to do with the Barian World."

Ryoga reached for his sword but a hand shot out from behind him and grabbed his wrist. He cursed himself for not sensing movement behind him as the figure shoved him face-first into the table. The merchant scooted backward in alarm and reached for the lance-

-Ryoga's free hand shot out first and grabbed it.

It was light, and surprisingly had a near-perfect balance, but what took him aback more than anything was the lack of the shock he always received when touching Barian weapons. Either the merchant was lying about the corundum, or-

_A corundum alloy._

Was it possible that this merchant knew a compound that neutralized the Barian energy?

He didn't have time to mull it over. He thrust the butt of the lance back into his assailant, who grunted and let him go, and spun around to intersect Kaito's sword thrust. A few yards away, Rio had jumped out of the way and had her rapier aimed at Kaito, though held low; her shoulder was still bothering her, then.

"I see you're not as useless as I'd thought, you filthy half-humans," Kaito hissed, dancing back a few steps from Rio, but he eyed the lance warily.

"I see you know better than to engage a lancer with a sword," Ryoga replied, stepping to the side to put some distance between himself and the large man who had grabbed him. The man was massaging his upper chest with a grimace. The merchant who had tried to swindle Ryoga with the lance seemed to have decided she didn't want the lance back after all and slipped out in the fight. "How'd you find us?"

Kaito narrowed his eyes, almost as if he didn't understand the question. "I felt you."

Ryoga let out a skeptical laugh. "Sorry, I didn't think I gave off those kinds of vibes."

Kaito took a step forward before the large man cut in with a "Droite, now would be nice!"

_What-_

He heard Rio grunt before she clutched at her neck and stumbled sideways into an empty neighboring stall. He opened his mouth to call her name before he felt a sharp pain in his neck. Immediately, his legs tried to give out on him and he had to lean on the lance to hold himself upright.

"The hell is this?" he demanded weakly, clutching at his neck. A dart… "Poison? You cowardly sack of-" His arm went numb and the lance clattered from his hand, causing his entire body to collapse onto the ground. Ryoga forced his fingers to search the hard earth for his lance; they brushed it-

Kaito's foot came down on his hand, and he felt the bones crunch ominously. He grunted in pain but before he could say anything, Kaito was straddling him again, sword at his throat.

Despite everything, despite the fact that he had been poisoned and bested by this spoiled prince _twice_now – if he could even call it getting "bested" when the prince had nothing to do with it – and could barely move his muscles by that point, he couldn't help but laugh.

"I hold your life in my hands," Kaito hissed, pressing the sword against his flesh. "Don't take this situation lightly."

Ryoga's lips twisted upward. "You call me a filthy half-human, but you insist on being close to me." Kaito pressed the sword harder and drew blood in an exact repeat of their last meeting. Ryoga flinched slightly but the smirk remained. "You seem to really like this position, _my lord_."

Kaito's face contorted in rage and he backhanded Ryoga's face with such force Ryoga wondered if his jaw had cracked. He tasted blood in his mouth from where he bit through his tongue and spat it out. His face stung and he had a feeling he was going to have a nasty mark on it. He was suddenly glad his hand was now numb from the poison, because he was sure his hand had at least a few broken bones in it, and broken hand bones hurt more than any other he had ever had.

"Don't you _ever_ speak to me in that way again," Kaito breathed, leaning closer. "If you make one more filthy suggestion, I will cut out your tongue."

It was, perhaps, a good thing the Arena was so deserted. A few merchants from tables down their side of the wall pointedly looked elsewhere during the fight and a few looked on with mild amusement; Ryoga distinctly heard one call out that they should be fighting in the court and not on the sidelines, a call that Kaito pointedly ignored.

"I'm completely at your mercy," Ryoga whispered. "Go on, then. Kill me. And then kill my sister. And revel in the fact that you succeeded in staining your worthless soul with the blood of the last Dragoons."

"All we want is to get back to our prince and save our kingdom." Rio's voice was barely audible.

Kaito looked over at her and back at Ryoga again. Ryoga didn't know what processes were going on in the lord's mind, but he seemed to be battling within himself, struggling to find an answer to whatever question plagued him. Finally, he pulled himself off Ryoga and climbed to his feet and glanced at the wooden fence behind the deserted merchant's table. "Is he really alive, then?"

"Would Rio and I have a reason to live if he were dead?"

A slow nod. "Then you had better hurry."

_What?_

"Why?" Rio said in a weak voice.

Kaito looked down at Ryoga. "If he was in Heartland, I am willing to stake my soul that he's in Arclight now." He paused, then laughed bitterly. "Well. So to speak."

Ryoga barely had time to puzzle over this strange afterthought. "Why is he in Arclight?"

Kaito glanced around the Arena. "We should leave."

"Why are they-" Ryoga's demand was cut off as the large man, who had remained silently glaring at the Dragoons, grabbed him roughly under his arm before doing the same to his sister. He flopped like a straw doll in the man's hold.

"Undo this poison and let us walk," Ryoga grunted, acutely aware at the chuckles following them as they walked.

"It'll wear off on its own," the woman said in a bored voice, picking up the lance and following them out of the Arena. "I hope this thing was worth all the fuss you made."

* * *

The prince barely moved as Durbe strapped his hands and feet to the wooden table. Durbe had to admire him; he was holding himself together well, unlike the women. The Healer had slunk to the floor and buried her face in her hands, refusing to even look at any of them, and the strange silver-haired woman hissed at them and even attempted to claw Alit's face with her unnaturally sharp nails before they shoved her into a separate cell. The Tsukumo man had no life left in his eyes and didn't even react to the prince's poor attempts at comforting whispers.

At least Tsukumo realized that things _weren't _going to "be fine."

Durbe had forced the Healer to tend to Astral's leg injury, as well as a mild concussion that Durbe assumed he had obtained when the Arclights brought them down. She had cried the entire time, whispering _I'm sorry_ over and over until Durbe wordlessly sent her back to stand by the door.

The chamber was large enough for Durbe, Mizael, the Healer, Tsukumo, and the prince, with Alit and Gilag standing guard outside the door; Durbe expected two more and hoped one of the two at least wouldn't show up.

He had no such luck.

"Goooooood morning, Durbiekins!"

Durbe closed his eyes and restrained himself from sighing with difficulty. Beside him, Mizael tensed, and Durbe brushed the back of his hand against Mizael's in what he hoped was a gesture of reassurance, but Mizael pulled his hand away as though Durbe had burned him, and crossed his arms instead.

"Vector."

Vector clapped Durbe on the shoulder. Durbe's hands twitched. "You sound so grumpy. Surely you're thrilled at the honor of being the one to contain the power of the Astral World for your kingdom?"

"I don't quite understand why you passed up such an honor yourself, Vector."

Vector shrugged, holding his hands out in a manner that indicated to Durbe that he had either passed it up because he was ordered to or had his own reasons for making Durbe do it. Knowing Vector, probably the latter. "You've worked so hard for the sake of the Barian Empire. I think you've earned it."

"I agree!"

Durbe glanced toward the door at King Byron, with his eerie look of total calm permanently plastered to his face. "Good morning, your majesty."

Byron stopped by the table and looked down at Astral, whose eyes darted between the three lords and the king with a noticeable look of distress in his abnormal eyes. "Pleasure to meet you again, Prince Astral."

Astral remained silent, and Vector giggled wildly. "He's trying to hide how terrified he is. How adorable! Go ahead, then, Durbe. We're all here now. No need to wait any longer."

Durbe took a deep, calming breath before stepping forward. Astral's frightened human eyes met his, and for a moment, he felt a tug of reluctance for what he was about to do.

But he was a lord, and Astral held powers that he needed to save his kingdom, so he plunged his hand forward toward Astral's chest.

* * *

The woman – Droite, Ryoga learned, and the man was Gauche – didn't tell him exactly how long the poison would take to wear off, and for all Kaito's insistence that they hurry back to Arclight, they had no choice but to stop and wait for the twins to regain proper use of their limbs again. It was, as far as Ryoga was concerned, the perfect time for Kaito to explain himself; why he had that mark on his eye, why he insisted that Astral and Yuma were in Arclight, a hundred miles from where they were supposed to be, how he could summon teleportation portals, and why he was after them. But Kaito remained silent through all of these questions, mouth moving as though working out his answers for himself, and rubbing the area of his chest directly over his heart with a distracted look in his eyes.

He was a man with many secrets, and Ryoga didn't trust him. How did he know Kaito wasn't just luring them to Arclight for the Barians? Until he met Kaito, Ryoga didn't believe in the Heartland superstition that the Barian World marked those who betrayed their race to do the Barians' bidding. But the mark was there, clear as day; one red eye and one blue, and Kaito seemed aware of it by the way he sometimes traced it with a shaky finger.

It took about three hours before Ryoga could move his fingers again, and another hour to regain mobility in his arms and legs. His hand hurt like hell; he had forgotten that Kaito had stepped on it, and he was sure now that at least a few bones were fractured, if not broken. Droite sat against a tree out of his reach, holding his lance. The poison had left Rio's system about twenty minutes prior, and Gauche held her rapier while she silently glared at him.

"Are we your prisoners, then?" she demanded, breaking a long silence.

"It's too much work to keep two Dragoons prisoner," Kaito muttered, drawing in the mud with a stick.

"Then why are you still here? Why not just leave us – or kill us – and go on with whatever you're doing?"

Kaito glanced over at her. She sat with her back rigid, jaw set firmly as the irritated look in her eyes matched his. "I can use you."

Ryoga's incredulous laugh paled next to Rio's. "You can _use _us?" Rio climbed shakily to her feet, holding herself up against a nearby ash tree. "We aren't _tools_, you stupid man, and we're certainly not doing anything for _you_."

Kaito narrowed his eyes. "You forget who you're speaking to."

"No, I know _exactly _who I'm talking to. A selfish prince who betrayed his own kingdom and his own _race_ to serve the _Barians_!" She spat on the ground.

Kaito cleared the distance between them in a few strides and grabbed her by the shoulders, shoving her into the tree. She flinched at the impact but glared up at him as his face twisted in wrath.

"You know _nothing_ of my circumstances," he hissed. "You know _nothing_ of my decisions or my motives, so don't pretend to know you do, you abnormal half-humans."

Gauche and Droite sat, silently watching the inevitable fight, looking almost bored. Ryoga wondered briefly why they were even with Kaito as he pulled himself up, legs still tingling, as though they were in the process of waking up after sitting on them too long. "Let go of her."

Kaito turned his head and met Ryoga's eyes. "Gladly." He released her shoulders and strode back to the stump where he had been sitting for the past few hours. Ryoga teetered on his feet for a moment, gritting his teeth at the discomfort in his limbs, before stumbling over to his sister.

"You okay?"

"I want to punch him in the face and make his eyes match."

Ryoga couldn't help but smile in amusement at Rio's ire. "How is your shoulder?"

"Agonizing." She shot a glare at Kaito, who pointedly looked away. "If he doesn't answer our questions soon, I'm going to run my rapier through his shoulder too."

"I told you, I don't have to answer-"

"If you want our _help_" –Ryoga emphasized the word- "then I suggest you tell us what you're doing here, first off. Otherwise I have no qualms killing you, prince or no."

Kaito laughed wildly. "Oh? You've failed to kill me twice now. What makes you think this time will be any different?"

"This time I have my primary weapon. Keep your lackeys out of it and fight me fair. Man to man." He wasn't sure how well he'd be able to fight with an injured hand, but his pride far outweighed his pain at the moment.

Gauche mouthed the word _lackeys_ as if spitting out venom and Droite pressed her lips together.

Kaito's mouth twisted in a grin. "Interesting. I've always wondered what Dragoons were like in real combat. Droite, give him his lance."

"I refuse."

"What?"

"I," she said slowly, "refuse." She gestured with the weapon. "Just tell him what he wants to know. Gauche and I have business in Arclight that is best done quickly and every minute you waste _overcompensating_ is a minute longer the kingdom is-" She cut off at a loud throat clearing by Gauche.

A look of comprehension dawned in Kaito's eyes. "I was right then. You _are_ assassins. Who are you killing in Arclight?"

"None of your goddamn business," Gauche growled. "We're all headed the same way, so I don't see why we shouldn't just travel together for a few days until we reach the palace."

"The palace?" Kaito looked alarmed. "You're killing one of the royal family?"

Droite gave Gauche a pained look. Ryoga was confused; what was going on here…?

But if _they_ were headed to the palace too…

"Emperor Durbe."

The three of them turned to look at him. Kaito narrowed his eyes again. "What?"

"You're going to kill Emperor Durbe." Ryoga laughed. It was suicidal, stupid, for whoever had sent these assassins to think they could get close enough to Durbe to kill him. There was no way Durbe wouldn't be able to figure out who had been sent to kill him after their inevitable failure. "Are you in this too, Kaito? Your kingdom is fucked if they pin you with these two." The way Droite and Gauche exchanged uncomfortable glances proved his suspicions. _Unbelievable. _

"Don't talk about things you don't understand," Kaito snapped. "My going to Arclight has nothing to do with killing anyone. I just happened to be thrown into their path is all. Anyway, why are you two going? Isn't it to save your prince?"

"You haven't told us why Prince Astral is in the palace to begin with," Rio said, crossing her arms. "He was supposed to be in Heartland."

Kaito clenched his fists and took a deep breath. "Your prince was seen in northern Heartland, near a trade outpost. I imagine he and his companions will be captured soon enough and taken to Arclight."

Ryoga's heart skipped a beat. He still remembered the shuddered last breaths of his king, remembered the way Vector had ripped out the tangible power in the king's soul. He imagined Durbe doing the same to Astral. There would be no mercy from the Barians. He swallowed. "You said… you _imagine_ they would be captured soon enough. So there's still a chance-"

"There's no chance." Kaito pulled the lance out of Droite's grasp and shoved it into Ryoga's hands. Ryoga grimaced as the pain in his hand flared. "I've become very familiar with how the Barians work. Your friends are going to be captured, then tortured. They're going to be strapped to a table and Durbe is going to rip their souls from their bodies as they scream, as their screams reverberate through the palace, because Barians don't give a damn how many humans they hurt as long as they get the power they desire." He walked away. "I need Prince Astral's power to help…" He paused, but Ryoga caught the slip. _Help? _ "I need Prince Astral's power. You want your prince alive. I know the layout of the palace as well as I know my own. We can benefit each other."

Gauche dropped Rio's rapier on the ground at her feet, and she picked it up slowly, keeping her gaze on the large man. Ryoga looked down at his lance. It was a beautiful weapon, and he imagined he could have it through Kaito's heart before Kaito could react. It was tempting.

He didn't want to taint this weapon with the blood of a traitor.

Rio glanced up at her brother and lifted her eyebrows. He had never felt more wary of trusting anyone in his life, but if this prince was telling the truth…

"We had a saying in our village growing up," he said. "_My enemy's friend is also my enemy_. How can we trust you not to lead us right to the Barians?"

Kaito stopped in his tracks and turned his head. "You don't."


	19. The Cards Dealt By Fate

**Chapter Nineteen: The Cards Dealt By Fate **

The person following them – it was one person, definitely; probably a short one – crashed through the woods so clumsily that Rio wondered if the person was even _trying_ to sneak up on them. She nudged her brother, who walked several paces behind Kaito and the assassins, and lifted an eyebrow. He turned his head slightly and sighed before nodding. They kept walking.

They had been walking for hours, and Rio's limbs had finally started to feel normal again. Out of the three of their travelling companions, Droite and her poisons concerned her more than the men did, though Ryoga's eyes remained locked on the back of Kaito's head for most of the trek. The two trusted each other about as much as they could throw each other; Rio was going to have to be extra vigilant during her turn at the watch shift tonight. It was late afternoon, but she was starting to get tired already. Maybe she could get Ryoga to let her take the first rest.

"We're drifting too far north already," Ryoga muttered. "The closer we get to the palace, the heavier the waterways are going to be with Barians. We should reroute south and cross the river before heading north."

"The rivers are too heavily guarded no matter where we are," Kaito said from the front. Rio watched her brother's eyes narrow; how had he heard them whispering from ten yards ahead? "We're going around the lake."

For all the man's insistence that they hurry, he sure was taking his time. "That will add another six days to our journey," Rio argued. "If you're correct-"

"I am."

"-then we probably don't have six days before they're going to…"

Her unfinished sentence hung in the air.

Kaito gave it a moment. "We don't have a choice if we want to make it there without running into entire platoons of Barians."

"I have an idea," Ryoga growled. "Why don't you just make one of your fancy Barian portals and take us there right now so we don't have to circumnavigate almost into the Sargasso Waste to get there only to find our prince and friends dead?"

Kaito stopped abruptly and narrowed his eyes at Ryoga. "For the last of a race of supposedly brilliant warriors, you are _completely_ ignorant of how Barian powers work."

"Enlighten me then, _my lord._"

Rio sighed and grabbed Ryoga's arm. "For the love of the gods, Ryoga, quit antagonizing him."

Ryoga gestured at him with his lance. "He has the ability to transport anywhere he pleases. We saw him do it-"

"All of you need to shut up!" Droite cut in loudly, holding up a throwing knife. "I hear something."

Rio heard it too; the slight rustle in the forest behind them, the snapping of twigs under a small boot. She felt the disturbance in the air and gave her brother a slight push to the left.

Caught unaware, he stumbled backward, looking bewildered and annoyed, until a knife lodged itself in the tree directly behind where his neck had been.

Her rapier was in her hands the second Kaito's was in his, and Gauche assumed a fighting stance, holding his fists in front of him. Rio remembered the last man she had seen posing like that – he hadn't even been a man at all, had he – and she involuntarily rolled her healed shoulder back.

"I want my lance back," a commanding female voice called from behind a tree.

Ryoga gritted his teeth and Rio recognized the voice. "Come and get it, then."

The merchant from before stepped out from behind a tree and lifted her chin, giving Ryoga an appraising sort of look – a disapproving look, even – and pulled the hood of her cloak down, revealing a mop of red hair.

"That's theft," she snapped, crossing her arms, and Rio almost laughed. This girl had spirit, standing up against a group of five armed people. "That lance is very valuable, and there is only one weapon like it in the world."

"Oh?" Ryoga raised his eyebrows. "I hope you're charging a royal sum for that one, too."

"I don't have it!" She turned her gaze to Kaito and the assassins, narrowing her eyes at Kaito's raised sword and Droite's throwing knives. "I modeled my weapon off of his. It took years to get the right materials and figure out the right compound, and I almost died in the Waste getting it-"

"What the hell is in the Waste that you needed for a weapon?" Kaito demanded.

She pulled her gaze from Kaito back to Ryoga. "A rare plant that neutralizes Barian powers."

Ryoga's mouth fell open slightly and Rio didn't need to turn around to see the others' expressions. She was plenty amazed by this proclamation; it seemed incredible that this woman had found a compound that did to Barians what the Baria crystals did to humans, but if it were true…

"Who told you how to make the weapon?" Rio asked quietly.

The woman looked uncomfortable now, almost as though she regretted entering into this conversation. Her leg bounced and she bit her lip. "A… a man from the Astral Kingdom. Maybe seven years ago, he came to my village with his son, looking to sell some wheat or something, and I saw his sword and he said… he said he travelled to the Sargasso Waste and found a plant that had wiped out almost an entire village after somehow getting in the water supply, like thirty years ago or something. Anyway, he talked about how he made his sword out of it and the Baria Crystal and… I kind of didn't listen as well as I should because he had a cute… son…" The color in her face matched her hair. "Point is, I managed to recreate it, finally, and you stole it."

Ryoga looked increasingly annoyed by her long explanation, but Rio found something very interesting about it. "What was his name?"

Her cheeks turned even redder. "Er… the son's name was Yuma, I think; I don't remember his last name…"

She kept talking, but Rio stopped listening now and turned to Ryoga, whose mouth was open slightly, eyes darting around aimlessly, as though he were trying to process this. Was it possible? She thought it must not be, but she remembered one of the first things Yuma ever said to her brother.

_My dad gave me this sword before he died. It's very important to me._

Could Yuma hold one of the keys to defeating the Barians? Could he have been holding it all along?

"Tsukumo." Ryoga's voice was quiet.

The woman cut off abruptly. "Pardon?"

"Tsukumo. The man's last name was Tsukumo. Kazuma Tsukumo."

The woman nodded slowly, brows furrowing, but she frowned at Ryoga. "Yeah, that sounds…"

"What is going on here?" demanded a voice behind them, and Rio tensed slightly. She had forgotten about Kaito for a moment. "What are you talking about?"

"What is your name?" Ryoga ignored Kaito completely, and Rio could hear Kaito's mutters of indignation behind them.

"A-Anna. Anna Kozuki- hey!"

Ryoga cleared the distance to the woman and grabbed her roughly by the arm. She let out a cry of angry protest and tried to pull away, but he ignored her and dragged her back to the others. "Anna has some very interesting information for us."

* * *

The moment Durbe's hand made contact with Astral's chest, an excruciating jolt ran through his body, and he stumbled back. Mizael caught him by the shoulders and steadied him. Durbe glanced down at his hand, which was smoking faintly, and burned. He was so confused, so engrossed in the pain in his body and hand, that he didn't hear Mizael order the Healer to him, and barely registered her flinch as she touched his hand and poured her energy into his body.

He had never been Healed by a human before; he wasn't sure what he expected, but it felt more or less the same as being Healed by a Barian, except accompanied by the unpleasant sensation of being doused in ice water.

It was an agonizingly slow process, though, which gave Durbe time to ponder what had happened. He was tired of his normal rituals going wrong, but this one definitely should have worked.

His eyes lingered on the pendant hanging from Astral's neck. It had been when he touched it that he received the jolt of pain, so perhaps it had something to do with the rejection…?

When she finished, she leaned on the table, breathing heavily, and he realized that the process of Healing him drained her more than it had when she Healed Astral – or perhaps she was still feeling the effects of the earlier Healing. He sent her back to the door, and she slid down the wall and buried her face in her hands. He lifted his other hand to his shoulder and tapped Mizael's hand, which was still tightly gripping him. Mizael let go.

"Did you know this was going to happen, Vector?" Durbe asked softly.

Vector held out his hands pacifyingly. "How was I supposed to know his body would reject your touch? Still," he added with a giggle, "it's a good thing to know, eh?"

"You two-faced bastard-" Mizael started forward but Durbe threw out an arm and caught him in the chest.

"Not another word out of you, not another motion or step, or I will ask you to leave, Mizael," Durbe warned.

He knew Mizael wanted to argue, but Mizael's eyes darted toward Vector, whose face was full of laughter, and Byron, who had his head tilted curiously, and seemed to decide it wasn't worth the effort. He stepped back behind Durbe and glowered at the ground, arms crossed again.

Durbe let out a tiny sigh of relief and returned his gaze to Vector. "How did you extract the power from his parents?"

Vector shrugged and held up a clawed hand. "Same way you're trying. I just shoved my hand through the king's chest and drew the energy into my gem." His shoulders shook with silent laughter. "Oh, you should have heard him _scream_."

On the table, Astral made a soft noise, perhaps a whimper or the choked-back beginning of a venomous retort. Either way, it drew all sets of eyes back to him and seemed to encourage Vector, who leaned over him, faces almost touching. Astral tried to maintain eye contact, but failed, and ended up glancing desperately to the side, eyes filling with tears.

"I have your daddy's powers inside of me," Vector said in a loud whisper. "I'd have your mommy's too but Mizzy over there got her with an arrow instead." He sighed dramatically and straightened up. "What a shame. What a _waste_."

"Stop."

It seemed Yuma had finally pulled himself out of his thoughts. His eyes still held that dead look, but instead of being directed at the ground, they were on Vector.

"Oh?" Vector sauntered over to the chains holding Yuma tightly to the wall and crouched down. "You're Astral's bodyguard, aren't you?" He jerked his head toward Astral. "Nice job."

Yuma's mouth tightened and Durbe could see his chin quiver. It was just like Vector to rub salt in the wounds, but seeing Yuma chained to the wall gave Durbe another idea.

"Lord Byron, might I ask for a favor?"

Byron lifted his eyebrows. "I suppose."

Durbe held his hand over the pendant. "I cannot seem to touch Prince Astral as long as he wears this, but perhaps since you are human, you will be able to remove it for me?"

Byron inclined his head ever so slightly and leaned over Astral. As Durbe suspected, the moment Byron's fingers touched the pendant, he pulled his hand back as though shocked. He looked at his hand in surprise for a moment, and then laughed quietly. "Interesting."

Durbe took Byron's hand and examined it. There was no sign of a burn or any other wound but it confirmed his suspicions. The pendant protected Astral's powers – particularly against Barians – and only Astral could remove it.

"Untie him." Durbe released Byron's hand and waited as Mizael gave him a puzzled look but began undoing the restraints. "When you're finished, have him switch places with Lieutenant Tsukumo."

He heard Vector's small _oh_ of surprise, followed by a quiet chuckle. He hated the fact that what he was about to do was something only Vector would do otherwise, but he had no choice. He needed the powers that Astral held. His own soul had been depleted far too much lately and he needed to restore it, even a bit.

_You almost killed yourself._

_Fulfill your oath, Durbe, and don't do something like this again._

How close to death had he brought himself?

Yuma didn't put up any resistance, which Durbe found odd, but at Durbe's request, Mizael removed Yuma's shirt and strapped him face-down on the table. Yuma lay still and silent, eyes on Astral, who was now chained loosely to the wall and seemed to realize what was about to happen by the way his lips parted and his brows knotted.

Durbe pulled out his knife and positioned it over Yuma's well-toned back. He seemed to take good care of his body. "Prince Astral, I will ask only once. If you wish to spare your bodyguard from this pain, remove your pendant."

Astral's hand gripped it so tightly that it drew blood; his eyes were wide now and the tears streamed freely from them.

Yuma pulled his head from the table and looked at his prince. "If you remove that pendant," he whispered hoarsely, "I will never forgive you."

Astral squeezed his eyes shut, hand clenching around the pendant, and he shook his head. Yuma nodded, expression resigned, and he leaned it back on the table.

With another soft sigh, Durbe touched the knife to Yuma's back. He couldn't have any reservations now. If he hesitated too long, if he waited to steel himself, he would show his weakness to Vector and Lord Byron.

Yuma's body tensed, his fingernails clawing at the table as he ground his teeth. Durbe cut a neat vertical line down the left side of Yuma's back, and when this failed to elicit the desired response, he turned to the other side.

This time, Yuma let out a high-pitched whine, body straining futilely against the restraints.

Durbe kept his voice conversational. "I have a feeling you wouldn't give in if we hurt you, Prince Astral, but I have found in my years spent studying humans that humans can't bear to see a loved one suffer in their stead." Durbe lifted the knife. "They'll do anything to protect those they hold most dearly." Yuma twitched on the table, hands clenching and unclenching. Durbe recognized the movement. It was the same movement many of the weaker Dragoons – children, the elderly – had made as they lay dying from shallow wounds inflicted by the Baria Crystal, wounds that should not have killed them otherwise.

_Those with Astral powers are more sensitive to the Baria Crystal than normal humans_, he mused, frowning at Yuma. _Could it be that he _does_ have some connection to the Astral World after all?_

Perhaps his grandmother and sister knew nothing about Kazuma Tsukumo's experiments, but Yuma… Yuma very well might.

In which case, his sister and grandmother might be helpful after all.

"You're too soft, Durbiekins," Vector breathed from behind him, but Durbe ignored him. He gestured at the Healer.

"Heal him," he said, "and we'll start over."

* * *

The bed was soft beneath him. It felt like he hadn't slept in a proper bed for years; had it only been a few weeks? He sighed and slouched deeper into his pillow, smiling as a calloused hand brushed his face.

"Sleeping on the job, Ryoga?" a voice said, amused.

"I think I deserve to sleep after everything we've been through lately," he murmured.

He heard her snort, but her lips pressed into the back of his neck.

"Affection? I thought it was duty with you."

"It's not always duty, Ryoga. I did love you, I thought. I don't think you felt the same."

"I loved you like I love Rio. Maybe a little differently. But…" He couldn't finish that thought. "We could have married. If it hadn't happened. Maybe, had things been different, I _could_ have loved you that way."

He felt her hands on his upper back, felt her warm breath tickle his shoulder blades. "But things didn't work out that way, Ryoga. They couldn't have, you know."

"Why?"

"You need to accept the cards dealt to you."

These words were familiar, chilling. He felt the sensation of drowning, of being trapped under the water's surface, held there by forces he neither knew nor understood. The soft bed felt suddenly like a cold, rocky lake bottom.

"What do you-"

"You have a different calling in your life. A different purpose. Accept that everyone who comes in contact with you becomes drawn to it, becomes part of it."

"I don't understand."

Her lips touched his ear. "You're a prisoner, Ryoga. And everyone who touches you, everyone who has the misfortune of crossing your path, becomes shackled to you. They become prisoners too, bound together for eternity."

"Mara, what are you talking about? Prisoners of what?"

He turned to look at her, expecting to see her scarred face and fire-red hair dipping into her green eyes. Instead, he found himself staring straight into the glowing eyes of the monster that had haunted his sleep for the weeks leading to his kingdom's downfall. It reached out its clawed hand and gripped Ryoga's chest, cutting into it, right over his heart. Ryoga couldn't speak; couldn't scream, couldn't move, couldn't _understand_.

"Fate."

* * *

His eyes snapped open.

It was dark; the stars twinkled brightly above, their brightness unimpeded by the sliver of light coming from the crescent moon. The only other light came from a small fire nearby, which crackled as Kaito prodded a stick at it.

"You let your guard down," Kaito said softly, glancing up. "I could have killed you while you two were muttering to yourselves over there."

He was right, of course; it had been a careless mistake to let himself fall asleep while he was supposed to be on first watch. He glanced over at Rio, her brow furrowed as inaudible words slipped past her lips. _You must be having nightmares too,_ he thought, feeling a stab of sorrow; what he wouldn't give for his sister to be freed from them.

Nearby, Anna lay curled up under her cloak. She had complained incessantly for four hours about how she was being _kidnapped _and that they had no right to keep her against her will, but in the end, she went along with them – presumably because Ryoga refused to give up such a priceless weapon and Kaito managed to convince her that going alone with them ensured that the Barians didn't _accidentally _hear about the Barian-killing weapon she had created. Fear of the Barians prevailed over her anger at her "captors," and she stopped complaining and instead reminisced at length about her meeting with Kazuma and – quite a bit – Yuma.

It had bored Kaito, but Ryoga listened attentively. Kazuma was a lieutenant in the Royal Guard before he requested a command post elsewhere, and went on leave for extended periods of time. About three months before he was killed in Sargasso, Kazuma had returned with a sword, claiming that it would change the world.

Ryoga heard these stories when news of Kazuma's death reached the Astral Kingdom – he had been nearly eighteen at the time, and an officer himself – but he didn't believe in a sword that powerful, and at any rate, Kazuma hadn't had it with him upon his death.

He pulled his cloak back on and sat across the fire from Kaito. Gauche sat up against a tree while Droite slept next to him, but they were out of earshot as long as Ryoga spoke quietly.

"What are you doing wandering the forest in Arclight with two foreign assassins, Kaito?"

"It's none of your concern."

Ryoga nodded slowly and tossed a handful of dried leaves into the fire. They sat in silence for a moment before Ryoga spoke again. "Do you believe in fate?"

Kaito snorted. "Are you suggesting we were destined to fight the Barians together?"

"Possibly." In the flickering firelight, he could see Kaito roll his eyes.

"If we were all foreordained to some higher purpose, if we are all led down the same path regardless of what choices we make in life, then what's the point in living?" Kaito stared into the fire unblinkingly. Ryoga suspected he had given this a lot of thought lately. "What's the point of sorrow and joy and hope if we're just going to be yanked into something, no matter how much we want to change it? We live like cattle, always being led back to the slaughterhouse." He laughed softly, bitterly. "I like to think of myself as a man capable of rational thought, not as a beast doomed to spend its life eating grass only to wind up on the dinner table while gods feast on my flesh."

Ryoga disagreed with some of this graphic train of thought, but he decided to take a different approach with Kaito. "What is it you want to change so badly about your future, Kaito? What choices have you made in the past that you are trying so desperately to make right?"

"It's none of your concern," he repeated. His hand went to his chest again. He rubbed it frequently, almost as though he didn't notice he was doing it, and Ryoga couldn't help but wonder if Kaito was experiencing pains that he didn't want to share with anyone. There was a spot of dried blood over it – Kaito tried to cover it with his cloak – so perhaps he was injured…?

Still, he didn't expect Kaito to share everything with him, but it would have been nice to know something of what he was getting into with this sketchy alliance with a man who had openly admitted to carrying Barian powers.

_Everyone who touches you, everyone who has the misfortune of crossing your path, becomes shackled to you. They become prisoners too, bound together for eternity._

Maybe he had no choice but to trust Kaito. Maybe Kaito would help him and Rio save their kingdom, whether he wanted to or not.

"If you don't believe in fate bringing us together, why are you helping us?"

Kaito tossed his smoldering stick all the way into the fire and watched the flames lick around it. "Because you're not _them_."

"Barians?"

Kaito finally looked up. "You spent all day talking about that man, the one with the sword. Where can we find him?"

"He's dead."

"…I see." Kaito picked up another stick and resumed his stoking of the fire.

Talking to Kaito was one of the most uncomfortable experiences Ryoga had ever endured. The man was tight-lipped and of few words, for the most part; secretive, scheming, conceited, but undoubtedly shrewd. He had grown up being taught how to play politics, where Ryoga had to learn them the hard way, and it wasn't even something he found himself good at. He seemed to disdain the Barians, yet he gave himself to them. Ryoga could only assume he had done it out of what he perceived as necessity; perhaps the Barians had threatened someone he loved.

"Where is the sword, then?"

"With his son."

"And where can we find his son?"

"If you're right about Prince Astral, then we will find his son in the Arclight Palace."

Kaito's hand froze. "The man's son is Prince Astral's travelling companion? Which means the sword is…"

Ryoga's hand clenched. A weapon designed to neutralize Barians was a huge step up from where they had been, but it was only one weapon. "The man's son is Yuma Tsukumo, personal bodyguard to Prince Astral, the rightful heir to the Astral throne and the man I have dedicated my soul to serving, and they are accompanied by Kotori Mizuki, one of the most skilled Healers in the kingdom and a woman who has saved my life and my sister's life more than once. They are more important to me than the sword."

They locked eyes and Kaito took a slow sip from his water pouch. When he lowered it, he tilted his head slightly. "You've spoken more of Yuma Tsukumo today than you have of anyone else. What is he to you?"

_It's none of your concern_ almost slipped from his tongue, but he held it in. That would sound like he was hiding something. He certainly didn't want to give Kaito the impression that he and Yuma were…

_We aren't_, he told himself firmly. It was the truth.

He tore his gaze away and looked back into the fire. "I met Yuma a little over two years ago, when he enlisted in the Guard. I had the misfortune of being delegated the task to greet the new recruits by the Captain-Commander."

_He had a stupid, childish grin on his face, like he was part of an exercise class and not an army, and he rubbed his hand on the hilt of his sword as though itching to show it off. _

"I told him that I didn't think he would last a week, and asked why he was even there."

_My dad served this kingdom, and I am going to follow in his footsteps._

"His father, I found out, had died a few years back. I remembered the man, though not well. Yuma was a lot like him – he looked like him, he had the same annoying saying – _kattobing, _whatever it meant – and he even fought like him."

_My dad gave me this sword before he died. It's very important to me._

"He was a talented fighter. Polished. Like he had been in the Guard for years."

_Yuma's movement with the sword was fluid, graceful; he almost danced from one form to the next, never breaking stride. His sword glistened in the sunlight, taking on a prismatic glow. In his eyes was a youthful optimism as he parried Captain Kamishiro's feint and pressed his sword next to the captain's neck._

"He beat me in swordplay – beat me soundly – and it pissed me off to no end how happy he was about it."

_Looks like I win, Captain._

"I asked him if he had any idea what it was like to kill another man. What it was like to be in battle, to hold your enemy's life in your hands. To feel your weapon pierce their body, to feel the blood seep through, onto the ground, to watch as their eyes widen in terror as they realize what's happening. To watch the life leave their eyes."

Kaito's mouth tightened. _I'm making him uncomfortable. He's never killed anyone before, then._ He felt less wary of Kaito, knowing that the prince probably didn't have the courage to take another's life, for all his bravado.

"He told me he would deal with that when it came. That he would use his sword only to protect his friends, because they counted on him." Ryoga closed his eyes. "Despite his… overenthusiastic nature, he was a good soldier. He did what he was told to, and did it well, and people admired him. He was a natural outdoorsman, and when I went on patrols, he escorted me to learn more. I promoted him after about a year. He was going to be sent to command an outpost along the river, but I…"

_I'll go where I need to go, and do what you want me to do, Captain._

"I wanted him to go on a scouting mission first. To Arclight. I'd heard the Barians were making movements toward it and I needed to see for myself. I was supposed to go with, but the Captain-Commander…"

_If it's the Barians, I want to go. Don't worry, Ryoga, I'll be fine. I'm better than you at fighting anyway, right?_

"When they returned, Mara died, along with almost the entire squad. Those that weren't dead already died later that night. Yuma alone survived. But he wasn't the same after that. He tried to take his own life. When he told me what happened that night…"

_It was hell on earth, Ryoga._

"I couldn't blame him." Ryoga took a deep breath and glanced up at the stars. It was becoming easier to tell Kaito this, though he still didn't fully understand why he should trust Kaito. Maybe he thought Kaito would trust him first. If they weren't bound together by the chains of fate before, they certainly were now. "But I changed my mind. I wanted to keep him at the Palace, where he would be safe. I made him Prince Astral's personal assistant. It made him happier, I think. He had some of his old faith back, he smiled more. But a few weeks ago, on the day he was to be promoted to Prince Astral's bodyguard…"

Kaito nodded slowly. "The Barians invaded."

"He wasn't safe after all."

Kaito rubbed his eyes tiredly. "You care about him."

"I feel responsible for him. I was responsible for the detachment at Arclight, I was responsible for failing my king and queen when the palace was invaded, and I was responsible for the protection of every one of the men who died that day in the palace. I have failed every goddamn thing I have ever cared about and Yuma… is one of the only people on this earth I have left. That's why I am determined to get him back. That's why I'm determined to save my prince and Kotori."

Yes, he was responsible for Yuma. Despite what Yuma had tried to tell him, it was Ryoga's fault that Yuma had been placed with that detachment in the first place. Yuma would have been better off positioned at the river outpost. Everyone under Mara's command would have died anyway, but Yuma would have been untainted by the feeling of his sword taking another's life, of watching his friends die around him despite his efforts to save them.

_But without Yuma, Mara would have died there, and you never would have been able to say goodbye to her_, a small voice in his mind reminded him.

But in exchange, was he to be denied the opportunity to say goodbye to Yuma and Kotori? Would he then be denied his prince, and his kingdom, and the shred of honor he still desperately clung to?

_What is Yuma to you_?

He was afraid to answer that question, even to himself, because the shame of it was too great to bear.

He had nothing more to say on the matter.

Kaito stood. "I'm going to rest. I trust you will have the decency not to murder me in my sleep."

Ryoga gave a curt nod and Kaito headed off a short way, where he found a patch of grass and curled up on it.

He should wake Rio and let himself rest but he was too afraid to fall asleep again.

* * *

The sun had gone down hours ago, but Haruto hadn't moved from his spot on his chair by the balcony window. Faker was concerned; Kaito had been gone over a week, and Haruto had hardly slept in that time. His face was becoming taut and dry, and no matter what Faker tried to tell him, Haruto refused to move, refused to eat, and refused to speak. He waited for his brother to return. It was as simple as that.

Not that Faker believed Kaito would return. Lord Durbe had sent a blunt letter to him three days ago, and he couldn't bring himself to tell Haruto its contents.

_Your son went missing in Arclight despite a life-threatening injury. We're searching for him but do not give it hope. With the severity of his particular injuries, he has, at best, only a few days left to live unless we can find him first._

It would devastate Haruto.

Durbe's lingering warning from their dinner the week before – two weeks? Three? It was impossible to keep track at this point – wouldn't leave his mind. _We believe that if he is brought to Arclight, we will be able to allow him to exercise his powers in a controlled environment._

Would the Barians have killed Kaito purposefully in order to get a hold of Haruto? Was Kaito the only one standing in their way of getting Haruto? Kaito's demands, Kaito's ultimate sacrifice – were they not enough for the Barians?

He didn't want to believe that his son was dead, but…

He sat tentatively in the chair next to Haruto's and watched his youngest son's emotionless expression. "Haruto, you're going to be sick if you don't-"

"It's clearer." Haruto's voice was barely audible.

"What?"

"The dragon nears its awakening." Haruto's face twisted into a grotesque smile as he turned his head to Faker. It was a terrifying expression, sickening, and looked nothing at all like his friendly son. Faker's hands clenched on the sides of his chair and he resisted with difficulty the urge to get up and leave the room. "The world will soon burn."


	20. Hell on Earth

**Chapter Twenty: Hell on Earth**

Three days felt like an eternity.

Even with the constant Healing of the deep cuts in his skin – his back, his legs, his chest, his arms – the pain jolting through his body was almost too much to bear.

By the end of the second day, as Durbe trickled some kind of liquid over his back that felt like fire against his bloody wounds, Yuma wanted it to end; he wanted to die, and he contemplated letting Durbe have what he wanted from him. But he had to keep Astral safe as long as possible. As Durbe's voice filled the room, Yuma could only pray to the gods he believed for so long had abandoned him; praying for reprieve, praying for someone to save them, praying for the strength to keep his mouth shut despite the physical torment Durbe put him through, which became more inventive by the hour. His questions were often the same, and even though Yuma didn't know the answer to half of them, the only sounds he let escape his throat were grunts and moans of agony as the knife pierced his skin and he was forced once more to endure the raw power of the Baria Crystal in his blood.

_What experiments was your father performing in the Sargasso Waste?_

_How is it possible to tap directly into the power of the Astral realm?_

_Where are the Kamishiro twins?_

Throughout each of Yuma's screams, Astral squeezed his eyes shut, praying quietly. The Barians were doing this to Yuma to force Astral to remove the pendant. But Yuma was proud of him. Astral didn't give in, and neither would he.

Vector had tried cutting the cord around Astral's neck instead of touching the pendant, but the knife seared Vector's hand as it made contact. When this failed, he stomped around and complained loudly until Durbe threatened to kick him out. Durbe carried the most weight in the room; that much was obvious. Mizael barely spoke after his initial outburst the first day, Byron came and went with moderate interest in the proceedings, and Alit and Gilag stood outside the door at Durbe's behest.

He registered dimly how Durbe and Vector didn't seem to get along. They argued constantly, and Vector openly mocked Durbe's "softness" and asked for five minutes with Yuma, which Durbe refused to grant him.

_I can break him in three minutes, Durbie. Physical pain will only get so far. If you break his mind… that's where the real fun is._

Yuma hadn't been moved from his face-down position on the table for the past two days. At night, they left him there, alone with his thoughts and his pain, and took Astral and Kotori somewhere else. He hadn't seen Cathy since she had tried to attack Alit. He hoped she wasn't dead. It would be one more death on his hands, one more stain on his soul.

As usual, Durbe was the first to enter the room, followed closely by Mizael, dragging Astral along in the crystalline chains that killed Astral's powers. Mizael's expression was usually hard to read, but today he narrowed his eyes at Durbe, who had a book tucked under his arm. As Mizael chained Astral to the wall, Alit and Gilag entered, dragging Akari and Haru with them. Yuma's heart clenched as Akari whimpered at the sight of her brother lying on the table, and tears poured silently down Haru's face while Alit settled them against the wall near Astral. Yuma felt Mizael's clawed hands pull at his restraints and pull him roughly from the table. In addition to the searing pain in the raw scars all over his body, his muscles were sore from his prostrate position from the past few days. It hurt to turn his head. Mizael gave him a rough shove toward his family, and he stumbled forward and collapsed into Akari's arms.

She gripped him around his bare shoulders and pulled him closer. He placed his stiff arms around her waist and fought back a sob as his grandmother rested her head on Akari's other shoulder and gripped Yuma's hand.

He had his family back, but he knew he wouldn't have them for very long.

"Yuma," she murmured, pressing his head into her shoulder.

"You were right," Yuma whispered hoarsely. "I shouldn't have done it."

"I hope we can reach some kind of understanding today," Durbe murmured, flipping idly through the front pages of the book as Akari frantically ran her fingers through Yuma's hair. "It's not necessarily how I'd do things myself, but sometimes… you must do unpleasant things for the benefit of the people as a whole." He sounded as though he were talking to himself; his voice was soft and distracted.

Mizael snorted softly at these words and resumed his position behind Durbe. If Durbe heard it, he gave no indication. His eyes followed Vector, who had just entered the room, eyes glistening as though he were at a festival and not a torture chamber.

"I wonder, Lieutenant - have you told anyone other than Captain Kamishiro your account of that night? The night Arclight fell?" He gestured toward Astral, whose eyes darted up to meet Durbe's. "You told Prince Astral, I assume. Not your sister, though. Nor your grandmother." He paused and placed his finger on the page. "Captain Kamishiro spares no details in this. You gave a thorough report. Now, I know you're too stubborn to give in and answer what I want answered, but I imagine your family might just have a different opinion of you when they hear of the _monstrous _things you did."

Yuma stopped breathing.

Durbe straightened his shoulders and read in a clear voice over Yuma's weak protests. "We arrived about a mile outside the palace, two hours after sunset-"

Yuma tried to pull away from Akari. She tightened her grip. "No, please-"

"_Yuma-_"

"-where we waited with the Captain-Commander at the edge of the woods-"

"_Stop!_"

But it was fruitless, and Yuma slumped back in Akari's arms, tears flowing freely now, while Durbe recounted Yuma's nightmares in a terribly emotionless voice.

* * *

Mara paced her horse Miryu to mask her anxiety, one hand on the reigns, the other clenching her slender lance. Her men sat on stumps, logs, and the ground in the sparsely wooded treeline near the Arclight Palace as their horses grazed on the low foliage. Many looked bored, but others, watching her closely, could sense her unease. One young man approached her hesitantly, hand resting on the hilt of his sword respectfully. As a stark difference to her dark armor, he wore a white uniform with red armor, cloak, and boots.

"Commander?"

She glanced at him and shifted the reigns to stop Miryu's saunter. "Lieutenant Tsukumo."

He squinted through the trees at the dim light shining from the castle a mile off. "I have a really uncomfortable feeling."

She nodded slowly and subconsciously placed a hand to a scar on her cheek. "As do I, Lieutenant."

"Why…" He hesitated, looking embarrassed. Even as an officer – albeit a low-ranking one – he had little place questioning his orders, especially not to the highest ranking officer in the Guard.

"Speak freely, Yuma." She narrowed her eyes at the palace.

He shifted his hand from his hilt to rest at his side. "Why does Captain Kamishiro think something is going to happen here? Why does he think the Barians are going to attack Arclight?"

Her green eyes glinted in the dim light as she looked slowly back at him. "The Barians have already broken the peace treaty signed fifty years ago when they crossed through Arclight into Astral ten years ago and slaughtered every man, woman, and child in my village. The Captain believes – and I agree – that the attack was in preparation for a larger scale assault. Arclight is not only closest to Baria but also the largest and most resource-rich kingdom. If Arclight falls, the other three will go with it."

Yuma shivered despite the warm night.

Movement.

Mara pulled out an eyeglass and peered at the castle gates. Three hooded figures, heading north along the river. She couldn't tell from this distance, but she somehow knew that one was short and built, another slender and taller, and the third significantly larger. No, there was one more. An average sized figure marched meekly between the large man and the short one. Even from this distance, the long, thick braid was unmistakable.

She bit back a curse. "Barians," she grunted. "They've got Byron."

The lazy, bored atmosphere changed instantly as the three dozen scouts lounging throughout the clearing sprang to their feet and drew their swords. Yuma unsheathed his sword slowly as Mara slid from Miryu's saddle, handed Yuma her lance, and reached in her armor for a pen and a scrap of paper. She scribbled a note and handed it to one of the scouts.

"Get this back to Captain Kamishiro as quickly as possible. Switch horses at the Wyvern Shrine." The rider gave a quick salute and kicked his horse into action. Mara gripped Miryu's reigns and took a deep breath before swinging herself into the saddle. She brushed her fire-red hair out of her eyes and turned back to her men.

"Let's get those Barian sons of bitches."

A buzz of agreement swept through the band. Yuma handed her the lance and swung into his own saddle, one hand still clutching his sword. The feeling of unease intensified.

"Commander," he murmured. "It feels stronger. Like…"

"An electric current running through the air," she muttered, tracing the scar on her face with a stout finger. He nodded. "Yes, I feel it too. Well, no time to waste. We have to rescue the king and if we can kill those murderous bastards in the process, all the better for us."

The words were no sooner out of her mouth when a bright red light flared up in the direction the Barians had been taking Byron. She swore loudly and waved her soldiers on.

They tore through the sparse woods and emerged in front of the castle gates only moments later. Mara's gaze swept over the guards, arrows sticking from several bodies lying in pools of their own warm blood, eyes glassed over. She turned Miryu in the direction the Barians had taken. A lone hooded figure blocked the path.

"I thought you might show up," the man said tonelessly. Behind him, a terrible scream pierced the air, accompanied again by the flash of red light and the electric current, more pronounced now she was closer to it. Mara flinched and tightened her grip on the reigns as Miryu danced nervously. The man turned his head slightly. "Lovely sound, wouldn't you agree, Commander?"

"What are you doing to him?" she growled.

The man shrugged. "King Byron didn't much care for our negotiations, so we're… persuading him. He'll come 'round before too long."

"Bastards," Mara spat.

He tilted his head. "That's not terribly polite of you. Of course, I haven't told you my name. Where are my manners?" He reached up and pulled down his hood, revealing a thin, pointed human face with a red tattoo travelling under and above each eye. He lifted his long hair from under his cloak, and the eerie red glow behind him caught a golden ornament dangling from the wing-like hair on the side of his head. "There, that's better, isn't it? I am General Mizael."

Yuma recognized the name. Captain Kamishiro had mentioned him a few times during their scouting missions. "You belong to Durbe."

Mizael turned his gaze to Yuma. "I belong to no one."

Mara snorted. "Did anyone ever tell you that you make a very pretty human?"

"What a disgusting insult."

The light stopped, and with it, the screaming. Mizael closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. "Well, it seems that is over with. No need to stall any longer, then." He pulled back his cloak and unsheathed a handsome sword. Even from this distance, Yuma could see what looked like a dragon carved into the hilt.

Mara slid off Miryu and held out her lance. "You're probably very skilled, but one Barian with a sword can't defeat my entire squad alone."

A smirk tugged at the corners of Mizael's mouth. "Do you really think I'm alone, little Dragoon?"

Mara turned her head to the palace and realized too late that the Barians had been there much longer than she'd thought. Yuma's eyes scanned the parapets. He counted about twenty archers. Through the gates, he could see another dozen men with swords in the palace courtyard.

"A trap." Yuma felt a spike of terror at the uncertainty in Mara's voice.

"It takes more than a pretty face to be a general," Mizael breathed, his smile becoming more pronounced. "Did you really think I would so carelessly let it slip what our plans for Arclight were unless I hoped to draw you here? I really just expected Captain Kamishiro, but being the one to dispatch the Captain-Commander is… quite an honor."

Yuma's shaking hands tightened on his sword. Mara placed a hand to her stomach, and for a moment, Yuma worried she might be sick. He certainly was; the sight of the archers taking careful aim at their squad seized his breath and made his legs weak. But she let out a slow breath, licking her lips.

"Lieutenant," she whispered. "I need you to go to Byron. Can you-"

"No need for that," Mizael called out. "Here he is now."

Yuma had never seen King Byron up close before, but both the Captain and the Captain-Commander described him as amiable and polite; a gentle statesman with a calm face. Yuma could only assume the narrowed eyes and wide grin on the king's face as he stepped into the torchlight were signs that the Barians had done something terrible to him.

"Damn it," Mara muttered. "We're too late."

"Good evening, Captain-Commander Simin," the king said in a horribly cheerful voice. "Under what pretenses have you invaded my kingdom?"

_Invaded?_

"Your Majesty-"

Byron shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Can't have that, can we? General Mizael, how many of these are yours?"

Mizael turned to the two figures accompanying Byron. The short one crossed his arms and shifted his weight from one foot to the other; the large one had his back to Mizael with his hands clenched. "A few of the swordsmen."

"Well, I'm going to use them. If we're in this together now, Arclight and Barian, you don't object, surely?"

If Mizael did, he didn't make it known, and Byron didn't bother waiting for a reply. He lifted an arm.

"Archers, ready!"

Mara cast Mizael a disgusted look and flung herself back on Miryu. "Fall back! Quickly! Todoroki, cover us!"

Yuma scrambled on his horse as a pillar of fire sprang from the ground between the Arclight forces and Mara's squad, incinerating a number of arrows. Yells filled the smoky air – angry, pained, jubilant, it was difficult to tell – but as he led his horse away from the palace, he saw a body lying on the ground, an arrow wedged in its throat.

His father had told him when he was younger that when you saw a friend die, the world seemed to stop around you. He hadn't understood it then, but now he did. The yelling, the screams, the burning air – all seemed distorted, in a way; hazy, as though looking at the world through a glass of water.

He made to slide off his horse but a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him along. A voice spoke urgently to him, but he didn't recognize it, nor did he know what was being said.

All he saw was his friend Hideyori, red hair matting in the mud beneath him, blood trickling from his parted lips. He and Yuma were sparring partners. Hideyori had been abysmal when they first met, but he learned well and had risen to be one of the better swordsmen in the unit. He joined the Astral Guard to raise some money for his farm, and he teased Yuma all the time about how Yuma grew up in the Astral Kingdom and didn't even know how to milk a cow. He was going to show Yuma how to do it someday, he'd promised.

_It's not too hard, you know. _He had a friendly smile, and never swore or drank. A good man. A faithful man.

And now he was lying dead in the blood pouring from where an arrow had lodged in his throat.

Some of the shouting faded as his horse bounced beneath him. It was eternity, riding. The vision of Hideyori's dead face, staring up at the night sky where his soul was going to rest, seared into his eyes. He would do well in the Astral World. He was a good person. He would be granted a high plane, certainly…

Yuma felt dizzy, and sick; whoever was holding his arm swore and yanked him upright. Had he been falling? His arm felt strange… His whole body…

"Damn it, Yuma,_ look at me_!"

He turned his head and met Mara's sharp eyes. Her fingers dug into his arm. "Yuma, speak. Say something."

He realized after a moment that he was sitting on the ground. The sky was lightening in the east. Toward Arclight.

"Sunrise?" he mumbled blearily, and only then did he notice what had happened. "Oh gods-"

The broken shaft of an arrow stuck out of his arm, right above his elbow, but that was nothing compared to the spikes of unimaginable pain travelling suddenly through his arm. It was as if his very blood was boiling inside his veins, numbing all mobility. A strangled scream slipped from his throat and Mara gripped his waist.

_How did I not notice this pain for an entire night?_

"Shh, you'll be fine, you'll be fine." Mara's voice shook as she gestured someone over. "Yuma, look at me, look at me. Say something."

He turned his wide eyes to her. "Mara, where are we? How is it sunrise?"

"We're about three hours from the Dragoon Shrine. We rode all night. You were… in a bad state. I've never…" Mara licked her lips. "Yuma, hold still, because this will probably hurt a hell of a lot."

"What will-" He cut off with a scream as a hand gripped his arm and ripped the arrow out. Blood gushed from the wound as he screamed into Mara's breastplate.

"Heal him, quickly."

The boiling sensation in his blood cooled instantly, replaced by an icy torrent. The blood flow slowed and stopped and Yuma's screams turned to gasps for breath and painful coughs as the Healer hastily tied off a bandage.

"There you go. You'll be all right." Mara nodded at the Healer, whose pallid face was streaked with tears. He teetered on his knees but dragged himself to his feet and staggered off toward another group of bleeding men.

Yuma's hand clenched her wrist as she made to stand. "Captain, is this… is this war?"

She placed her other hand on his. "Yeah. Yeah, I think it is."

He looked around him, at his bleeding comrades, many of whom rested on one another's shoulders and gripped each other tightly. All of them had tears on their faces, and most of them were wounded in some way.

There had been forty of them.

Now there were sixteen.

Hideyori's dead expression swam into Yuma's mind again and he leaned over to throw up. Mara rubbed his back as he wiped a shaking hand across his mouth. "It's hell."

She nodded slowly. Her hand pulled away. "Yeah, it is. Get some sleep."

* * *

Yuma's arm ached as he sat up. For a moment, he didn't want to open his eyes. It would be so nice to pretend that he had dreamed the whole thing.

"Barians!"

The quiet camp woke; the sound of soldiers grabbing for their weapons and shouting, of arrows whistling through the air once more-

"Where's Todoroki?" a voice roared.

"Here!" another voice screamed back. "He's hit-"

"Yuma! Yuma, get up!" A pair of hands grabbed him under the arms and heaved him to his feet. He didn't need to turn to know it was Mara. "Fight, Yuma! We can fight them. Go for the archers first."

She sprinted into the trees and Yuma hazily reached for his sword in time for a hooded Barian to slash at him with a sword of his own.

_Swords… I can do that…_

Yuma parried the strike and he struggled to his feet. His legs were barely responsive. He needed to get into the trees; they shouldn't be fighting, they should be heading for the Shrine…

_The Barians can't get within ten miles of the Shrine_.

They'd be safe there…

His body instinctively found its way into the forms he needed, and he easily kept the Barian at bay.

_They killed the Dragoons…_

He knocked the Barian off-balance, and it fell to the ground, sword flying out of its hand.

_They're monsters._

He closed his eyes and thrust his sword into the Barian's chest.

_Have you ever seen the life leave your enemy's eyes?_

If he didn't look into its eyes, it wouldn't count, it wouldn't matter. It wouldn't haunt his dreams, it wouldn't stain his soul. He wouldn't remember it.

His eyes opened in time to realize that his now-dead adversary was wearing the insignia of the Arclight military.

It wasn't a Barian at all.

He ripped the sword out of the man's chest and stumbled back, retching against the smell of the blood in the air, the smell of the man's blood he had just spilled.

He heard footsteps behind him and his arm mechanically moved to meet the intended strike. He couldn't see; tears clouded his vision, but he parried, parried, parried, _struck_-

His body moved on its own, a puppet belonging to a sadistic puppeteer; his sword thirsted for blood as it struck like a snake, biting all in its path, sinking into soft human flesh and rough Barian flesh alike. He didn't know where he was going, just that he had lost all control of his senses, was watching his hands kill while being completely unable to stop them.

Mara's scream of rage pierced the air nearby, and his legs – when did they gain this strength? – carried him to her. An arrow pinned her cloak to a tree and a Barian – it was a Barian, with a disgusting mouthless face – sank a knife into her stomach, and she screamed again, this time in pain. When it saw Yuma, it turned to run.

_Not the Commander-_

He dropped his blood-stained sword and knelt by her side. She had saved him. He needed to save her, he needed to do-

"Yuma," she gasped, "don't let your guard d-"

The Barian turned from its flight and pulled out a bow, aiming an arrow at Mara once again. Yuma threw himself between Mara and the Barian, and the arrow pierced his shoulder.

It didn't hurt, strangely.

He fumbled for his sword and staggered to his feet, ignoring the arrow in his shoulder, ignoring the lava flowing through his veins. The Barian's eyes widened and it turned to run again.

It didn't get far.

Yuma grabbed a thick log and hurled it at the Barian, catching it by the back of its knees. It fell forward and landed on its stomach, but it turned and took aim at Yuma again. Yuma's boot came down on its hand.

Its eyes were filled with horror.

It was afraid to die.

"Burn," someone said with Yuma's voice, and his sword came down on it.

Once.

Twice.

It was dead now, but his sword's insatiable thirst kept it striking.

Three.

Four.

Five.

He lost track.

* * *

He helped Mara back on her horse. Only a handful of them remained as they rode into the ward around the Dragoon Shrine. Mara hunched over for the entire ride through the mountains, clutching her stomach, but she didn't say a word. None of them did.

The Healer died as they entered the Astral Kingdom's borders.

A few hours later, everyone's wounds opened up again. They tried to stifle the blood, but that was all they could do.

Yuma didn't remember most of the trek. His mind and body were separate entities. His mind screamed in agony, in fear, in horror.

_He cannot achieve the highest glory who takes another's life in vengeance._

His body barely registered the blood trickling down his arm from his shoulder, where the second arrow had been removed hours ago.

He had tainted his father's sword with the blood of Barians and humans. He had sought vengeance. Had killed in vengeance.

He feared his soul would never be forgiven. He feared it would never be mended.

* * *

The only sound in the small stone chamber as Durbe snapped the journal shut was Yuma's whimpering and Vector's quiet giggles.

"I think that's enough for today," Durbe said softly, motioning for Mizael to follow him. His general cast him a strange look – a narrow-eyed, almost contemptuous look – and swept past Durbe into the hallway. Durbe lowered his eyes to the ground for a moment. He'd upset Mizael again; he should have remembered that the subject of Byron's torture still bothered him. Mizael might not forgive him so readily this time.

"Why?"

Astral's voice was barely loud enough to be heard over Yuma's anguish and Akari's empty reassurances. Durbe paused.

Did he really have a reason? Did he really have a reason to recount this story, other than that it gave Vector some kind of sadistic pleasure, and perhaps would lessen Vector's insistence that he be able to have a crack at the boy?

"A reminder," Durbe said finally.

"A reminder that a man ripped apart his soul to protect those he loved? A reminder that he failed them? Was this just to break his spirit?"

"Of course it was," Durbe replied. "It was a reminder that even humans who pretend to be filled with a convoluted sense of _justice_ and _right_ are capable of being monsters."

* * *

Thomas was getting impatient with the Barians. They had promised that they would use Astral's power to help their father. But after three days, no progress had been made.

_He'll crack sooner or later_, their father had said cheerfully. _There's only so long Prince Astral will be able to go before watching his closest friend's agony will finally break him._

The whole situation seemed to make Mihael uncomfortable; he sat by the fire in the library with a large book on his lap throughout that time, taking only tea and small meals, and seemingly reading nothing at all. He refused to talk to Thomas outside of a brief accusation that _the lieutenant was going to kill me and you stood around doing nothing_.

He tried to argue that he knew the lieutenant wouldn't kill anyone – the look in the young man's eyes proved that much; the wide eyes and trembling parted lips, the unsteady sword arm – but Mihael wouldn't listen. That was understandable. Part of Thomas had been curious, he had to admit. He wanted to see if the lieutenant would actually bring himself to do it. He would have stopped him from outright killing Mihael, of course, but pushing him to the limit… was satisfying.

Chris had been almost silent for three days; his thoughts were clearly not on the hapless prisoners in their basement, but on Kaito. Every time someone mentioned the Tenjo Kingdom, every time Chris looked at his soul gem, he gritted his teeth and gripped it, mouth twisting in pain. Every time their father came around, Chris hastily excused himself in a low mumble.

Durbe had seemed less concerned with Kaito these past few days – no wonder, given his preoccupation with the prince and his bodyguard – and when Chris demanded to know where Kaito was, brushed him off. _We're still looking for him, but it has been well over a week and at this point we're just looking for his body._

Obviously, Thomas was the only one of his brothers who was eager to see progress with the prince, because that meant their father would be returned to normal and they could regain some sense of normalcy in their lives.

When he tried to bring this up to Chris that evening in the music lounge, his brother finally looked at him and snorted softly, straightening himself out on the settee. His hair was a ragged, unwashed mess and his clothes were wrinkled; Thomas was sure he hadn't changed out of his nightclothes in days.

"Do you think the Barians will actually make good on their promise, Thomas?"

"Why wouldn't they? Father was much easier to work with before they…" _Before they did whatever they did to him_. "Anyway, if Astral's powers help him, the Barians might decide to leave him in charge of the kingdom."

"A puppet state."

Thomas jumped to his feet. "It's better than sharing a palace with these _things_!"

Chris looked up at him, slightly red eyes half-closed. Had he been crying again? "These _things_ are conquering the continent. We may as well get used to them being here."

Chris's resignation – highlighted in his lifeless eyes, in his slumped posture, and in his quiet voice – pissed him off to no end. Thomas grabbed him by the collar of his nightshirt, and ignoring the smell of his brother's unwashed body, slapped him with his free hand. Chris blinked several times and his mouth opened slightly in surprise.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?" Thomas hissed, giving him a shake for emphasis. "Ever since Kaito vanished, you've been acting like a-"

Suddenly, he knew.

He froze and released his hold on his brother's collar, and Chris fell back on the settee, rubbing his neck while avoiding Thomas's incredulous stare.

_Like a lovesick maid pining after a lover gone off to war._

"You and Kaito."

Chris's hand froze, and that was all Thomas needed.

"Oh my gods."

It made sense now, all of it; Chris's decade-long reluctance to get married, his frequent trips to the Tenjo Kingdom, Kaito's frequent trips to Arclight, _everything_. All this time, he'd assumed Chris to be Kaito's mentor, teaching him swordplay and politics, but clearly…

"Oh my _gods_." Thomas ran his fingers through his hair. "How could you do something so selfish and… _stupid_?"

Chris wouldn't look at him; his eyes were fixated on the floor and he rubbed his hands together like a child who had been caught sneaking around in the pantry after hours. And as Thomas had this thought, another very unpleasant thought occurred to him.

"How long did you think you were going to be able to keep this from Father?"

"I think he knows," Chris whispered. "But it doesn't matter now, does it? He's… gone."

"That's not going to matter, you idiot," Thomas snapped. "You broke custom _and _the law. Do you honestly think that's going to change anything?"

"If you keep quiet about it and I find a wife to uphold custom, it doesn't have to matter."

Thomas snorted. If Chris found a wife, he'd have to keep silent for the rest of his life that he'd taken another man as a lover – and not just any man, but the heir to a neighboring kingdom.

What a mess.

But before he could respond, Chris's expression changed to one of terror, and he made to stand up.

"No, no, I think you should sit, Christopher. You too, Thomas."

Their father stood in the doorway. Thomas hadn't heard it open. "Ah… good evening, Father. Do you have news of-"

"Yuma Tsukumo has exhausted his usefulness, or so Lord Durbe thinks. He is slated to be publicly hanged in three days. A fitting reminder to anyone who wishes to rise up against our Barian friends, don't you think?"

_Hanged…?_

They hadn't publicly executed anyone in Arclight in nearly fifty years. Thomas sank to his chair and gripped the arm.

"What of… the prince and the women?"

Byron shrugged. "Prince Astral will be questioned until he finally gives in. It's only a matter of time before he relents. The Healer is of use to Lord Durbe, but the other three women aren't, so Lord Vector suggested tossing them in a cell until they die. But that's not important."

Thomas couldn't think of anything less important than a public hanging in _his _kingdom, but Byron plowed right on without giving him a chance to respond. He turned his attention to his eldest son.

"I overheard some of your conversation, Christopher."

Thomas's eyes darted to his brother, whose face was pallid. Chris was in no state to defend himself, or to think up a lie to cover up what their father might have heard.

_Stupid man._

"Isn't it wonderful, Father?" Thomas offered. "Christopher has finally decided to be wed. Our kingdom will soon have an heir."

What might have been Byron's attempt at a warm smile looked more like a leer as he turned to Chris. "Is that right? I did hope I hadn't misheard the conversation… no, no, this is magnificent. Who is my new daughter to be?"

Chris shot Thomas an openly panicked look and Thomas cursed his luck. Chris was usually so calm and quick on his feet.

"The Tsukumo woman," Thomas interjected.

He prayed for Chris to keep his face impassive. A look of disbelief flashed in Chris's eyes but he mercifully composed himself well enough.

Byron squinted at him skeptically. "Have you even spoken to her?"

"No," Chris said after a heartbeat's hesitation. "But I have thought it over, and my union to a woman… from a different kingdom, the… the sister of a former enemy…"

He was losing steam. "It would show a union between the Astral and Arclight kingdoms, an abandonment of outdated customs of nobility, and a show of mercy for the remaining family members of a man who foolishly sided against our Barian allies," Thomas said smoothly. "I was skeptical at first, but I think it might be effective, yes?"

Byron watched Chris's face with narrowed eyes. Thomas held his breath. It was a stupid gamble, but if it worked…

Finally, Byron nodded. "Interesting choice, and I see your logic. I will discuss it with Lords Vector and Durbe." He turned to leave. "I'm pleased to hear you're sorting yourself out, Christopher."

The door closed behind him and Thomas let out his breath. Chris was leaning against a pillow, breathing heavily.

"Thank you."

"If Kaito's still alive," Thomas said quietly, "you're going to have to give him up now."


End file.
